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William  Morris  Hunt. 

Painted  by  himself. 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/artlifeofwilliam00know_0 


ART-LIFE 


OF 

William  Morris  Hunt 


HELEN  M.  KNOWLTON 


SKEtt!)  ^llngtrationg  from  big  toorfeg 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1899 


Copyright , i8pp, 

By  Little,  Brown,  and  Company 


John  Wilson 


and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 


WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“ Whether  his  critics  utter  praise  or  blame , 

With  puny  aping  of  the  even  hand 

Which  time  outstretches  in  supreme  command 

Of  each  great  worker's  share  in  the  worlds  fame , 

Unruffled  by  the  din , we  give  his  name 

Into  the  keeping  of  the  slow  years 

That  labor  on,  un  vexed  by  wiles  or  fears , 

To  fix  the  measure  of  our  just  acclai?n . 

How  can  we  doubt  its  amplitude , who  know 
The  ways  of  those  grand  lives  that  prefaced  his  ? 
What  now  remains  of  their  old  world  to  show 
What  Athens  was,  what  Rome , what  Florence  is  ? 
Pontiff  and  Prince  the  vellum  record  gives, 

But  that  is  all . Only  the  artist  lives  ! ” 


W.  L.  Brigham. 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Parentage  and  Early  Life  — Couture  — Millet  . . i 

II.  Millet,  concluded — Barye  . 16 

III.  Portraits  and  Ideal  Figures — Settles  in  Boston 

— His  Helpfulness  to  Artists  — Portrait  of  Chief 
Justice  Shaw  — Other  Pictures  — Hunt’s  Litho- 
graphs . 26 

IV.  Portrait  of  Abraham  Lincoln  — Action  of  the 

Massachusetts  State  Legislature  — The  Portrait 
Burned  in  the  Summer  Street  Fire  — James 
Jackson  Jarvis  on  Hunt’s  Portraits  — Kate 
Field’s  Impressions  of  Hunt,  his'  Studio,  and 
his  Work 39 

V.  An  Incomplete  List  of  Portraits  — Other  Pictures 
— Characteristics  of  Hunt’s  Portraits  — Mr. 
Emerson  and  Dr.  Holmes  — Mr.  Gardner  and 
Mr.  Whittier  46 

VI.  Reminiscences  — Visit  to  Concord,  Mass.  — Help- 
fulness to  Artists  — Anecdotes  of  his  Life  in 
France  — Appreciation  of  Others,  and  their 
Work  — Anecdotes  of  his  Student  Life  Abroad  56 

VII.  Ideas  of  Art  Instruction  and  of  Painting — French 

Artists 63 

VIII.  Likeness  of  Men  of  Genius — Illustrations  of 

Tennyson  — Manner  of  Work  — Loss  of  Hunt’s 
Studio  by  Fire  — Loss  of  Portraits  and  other 
Pictures,  including  all  the  Studies  for  “ Anahita  ” 


7 1 


CONTENTS 


viii 

CHAPTER 

IX. 


X. 


XI. 


XII. 


XIII. 

XIV. 


PAGE 

Hunt’s  Class  in  Boston  — Visit  of  Mr.  Dickinson 
of  London  — The  “ Talks  on  Art”  — Letters 
from  George  H.  Bough  ton  and  Robert  Brown- 
ing— Criticisms  on  Hunt  — Favorite  Authors 

— Anecdotes 83 

Landscape  Painting,  1874  — Visit  to  Florida  — 
Journey  to  Mexico  in  1875  — Peculiar  Jackets 
and  Hats  — A Painting  Wagon  — A City 
Letter — Summer  in  West  Newbury,  Mass  — 
Letters  on  Portrait  Painting— Naushon  — 
North  Easton — The  Picture,  “ Spring  Chick- 
ens ” 105 

Sketch-Class  of  Hunt  Pupils  — George  Fuller  — 
Magnolia,  Mass.  — Hunt’s  Painting  Assistant 

— Gloucester  Harbor  painted  for  Light,  1877 

— The  Park  Square  Studio,  Boston  — Public 

Exhibition  — Working  from  Memory  — The 
Bathers  — Visit  to  Niagara,  1878 115 

Ideas  of  Art  Education  — Japanese  Art  — Hunt 
visits  a Studio  — A Critique  of  the  Artist  — 

His  Idea  of  Rembrandt  — Visit  of  a Portrait 
Committee  — Charles  Sumner  — Working  from 
Memory  . 124 

Hunt’s  Views  on  State  Art-Education  — Lectures 
on  Art  — Art  Instruction  in  this  Country  — 
Hunt’s  Knowledge  of  Form  — Values  versus 
Outlines  138 

Hunt  Receives  a Commission  for  Two  Large 
Mural  Paintings,  1875  — Letter  from  Mr.  Eidlitz 

— Subjects  of  Paintings:  Columbus,  The  Dis- 

coverer; and  Anahita,  The  Flight  of  Night — 
Description  of  the  Compositions  — Preliminary 
Studies  and  Work  — Goes  to  Albany — Life 
and  Work  while  there  — Letter  from  Miss 
Hunt — Other  Letters  . 157 


CONTENTS 


IX 


CHAPTER 

XV. 


XVI. 


XVII. 


XVIII. 


The  Albany  Work,  continued  : — Interview  with  a 
Boston  Doubter — Hunt’s  Enjoyment  of  His 
Surroundings  at  the  Capitol  — Plans  for  Fur- 
ther Decorations — Governor  Robinson's  Veto 

— Tribute  to  Lieutenant-Governor  Dorsheimer 

— Bad  Work  on  the  Capitol  — Threatened  Des- 

truction of  the  Paintings — Their  Removal  in 
Ten  Years’  Time  — A Tribute  to  the  Albany 
Work  — Hunt’s  Last  Visit  to  the  Capitol  . . 

Return  to  the  Boston  Studio,  January,  1879- — 
Portraits  — Exhibition  — 111  Health  — Hunt 
Closes  his  Studio  — Visits  Weathersfield,  Vt.  — 
Letters  to  Carter  and  his  Wife — -Goes  to  the 
Shoals  — Letter  from  Mrs.  Thaxter  — Life  at 
Appledore  — Delight  over  Low’s  Tiles  — 
Graphic  Letter  from  Mrs.  Thaxter,  Describing 
Hunt’s  Life  at  the  Shoals,  and  his  Death  — 
Previous  Attacks  of  Vertigo  at  Different  Times 

— Funeral  at  Brattleboro’,  Vt.  — Description 

of  his  Last  Resting-place  — His  Death  a Great 
Loss 

Memorial  Exhibition  of  Hunt’s  Works,  Novem- 
ber, 1879  — Representative  of  his  Career  as  an 
Artist  — Portraits  of  Hunt  — Vitality  of  his 
Work  — The  Meaning  of  the  Exhibition  — 
Great  Public  Interest  — Tribute  to  the  Exhibi- 
tion and  to  the  Artist  — Poem  by  Susan 
Coolidge 

A Memorial  to  Hunt  Proposed  — A Suggestion 
of  a Statue  and  a Fountain  Combined  — Pro- 
posal to  Purchase  Paintings  for  a Hunt  Room 
in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts  — Last 
Exhibition  of  Hunt’s  Work,  1880  — Sale  of 
his  Paintings,  etc.,  at  Auction  — Many  of  his 
Paintings  Exhibited  in  London,  1881  — Scar- 
city of  his  Work 


PAGE 


169 


181 


191 


201 


Illustrations 


Portrait  of  William  Morris  Hunt,  painted  by  himself  Frontispiece 

Page 

Portrait  of  his  mother,  by  William  M.  Hunt 26 

“ Marguerite,”  from  the  original  painting  ......  28 

By  permission  of  Mrs.  Roland  C.  Lincoln. 

“The  Girl  at  the  Fountain,”  from  the  original  lithograph  37 

“ The  Boy  and  Butterfly,”  from  the  original  painting  . . 49 

By  permission  of  Mrs.  Richard  M.  Hunt. 

“The  New  Marguerite,”  from  a photograph  of  the  origi- 
nal painting 50 

By  permission  of  Mrs.  Richard  M.  Hunt. 

Portrait  of  Francis  Gardner,  Master  of  the  Boston  Latin 

School 54 

“ The  Prodigal  Son,”  from  the  original  painting  ....  60 

By  permission  of  Miss  Jane  Hunt. 

Portrait  of  William  Morris  Hunt,  from  a charcoal  draw- 
ing by  himself 72 

“Anahita,”  Study  of  Head 78 


Xll 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

Portrait  of  Chief  Justice  Shaw,  from  the  original  painting  88 
“ The  Flight  of  Night  ” . . . 94 

“ Washing  by  the  River,”  from  a charcoal  drawing  . . . 106 

By  permission  of  Gen.  Charles  G.  Loring,  Director  of  the  Museum 
of  Fine  Arts,  Boston. 

Hunt’s  Studio  at  Magnolia,  Mass 116 

“ The  Bathers,”  from  the  original  painting 120 

By  permission  of  Mrs.  Charles  Fairchild,  and  Messrs.  John  A. 

Lowell  & Co. 

“ The  Discoverer  ” 160 


ART-LIFE 


OF 

WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 

9 

CHAPTER  I 

Parentage  and  Early  Life — Couture  — Millet 

WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT  was  born  in  Brat- 
tleboro’,  Vermont,  March  31,  1824. 

He  was  the  son  of  Hon.  Jonathan  Hunt,  a graduate 
of  Dartmouth  College,  who  married  Miss  Jane  Leavitt, 
of  Suffield,  Connecticut.  His  father  was  best  known 
as  Judge  Hunt;  and  during  the  last  years  of  his  life 
was  a member  of  the  National  House  of  Representa- 
tives. He  died  in  Washington,  D.  C.,  in  1832.  His 
mother  was  a woman  of  great  beauty,  with  a natural 
aptitude  for  painting. 

The  home  in  Brattleboro’  was  on  the  main  street 
of  the  town,  a large  structure  of  painted  brick,  sur- 
rounded with  shrubbery,  and  presenting  a substantial 
and  dignified  appearance.  There  were  five  children 
in  this  house,  four  sons  and  a daughter:  William, 
Richard,  John,  Leavitt,  and  Jane.  William  became 


2 ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


a painter,  Richard  an  architect,  John  a physician,  and 
Leavitt  a lawyer. 

In  her  early  years  Mrs.  Hunt  had  shown  a strong 
desire  to  draw  and  paint,  but  the  desire  met  with  no 
encouragement  in  her  father’s  home,  as  it  was  hoped 
that  she  would  develop  a taste  for  music.  While 
attending  a boarding-school  she  found  herself  irre- 
sistibly drawn  to  the  painting-class,  and  pursued  her 
own  studies  with  redoubled  zeal  that  she  might  have 
the  more  time  for  watching  its  fascinating  work. 
When  asked  why  she  did  not  join  the  class,  she 
replied : — 

“ I must  not.  My  father  would  not  allow  it.” 

“Take  these  paints,”  said  the  teacher,  “and  try  to 
sketch  this  flower.  When  your  father  sees  that  you 
really  can  paint,  he  surely  will  not  object.” 

That  was  a happy  hour,  but  the  dream  had  a rude 
awakening.  When  the  child  went  home  for  vacation, 
she  timidly  placed  her  sketch  upon  the  piano,  and 
awaited  results. 

“Who  did  that?”  asked  her  father. 

“ I did  it,”  was  the  reply. 

“ Take  it  away ! and,  mind  you,  no  more  of  this.” 

The  injunction  was  obeyed  to  the  letter.  Later 
in  life,  a widow  with  five  children  to  educate,  she 
resolved  that  they  should  have  the  advantages  which 
had  been  denied  her.  An  Italian  artist  was  in  the 
town,  New  Haven,  looking  for  orders,  or  for  pupils. 
His  name  was  Gambadella,  and,  as  a political  refugee, 


EARLY  LIFE 


3 


he  brought  letters  from  distinguished  philanthropists. 
Mrs.  Hunt  gave  him  a room  in  the  upper  part  of  her 
house,  and  endeavored  to  find  pupils  for  him.  With 
enthusiasm  she  went  from  house  to  house,  but  not 
one  pupil  could  she  obtain.  Nothing  daunted,  she 
declared  that  there  should  be  a class,  and  it  should 
consist  of  her  children  and  herself. 

The  little  class  worked  with  zeal,  and,  at  the  end 
of  the  term,  an  exhibition  of  their  work  was  given. 
It  aroused  much  interest  in  the  town,  and  there  was 
a general  desire  for  lessons. 

“ You  are  too  late ! ” was  Mrs.  Hunt’s  proud  and 
happy  response;  and  no  one  outside  of  the  family 
was  admitted.  Of  her  children,  one  was  Richard  M. 
Hunt,  the  eminent  architect  of  New  York.  Another 
became  a physician,  spending  his  life'  in  Paris.  A 
third,  with  all  the  elements  of  a successful  lawyer, 
gave  up  his  profession  at  the  time  of  our  Civil  War, 
rendering  good  service  as  colonel  of  a Vermont 
regiment. 

After  the  successful  experiment  with  studies  at 
home,  Mrs.  Hunt  resolved  to  meet  at  once  the 
question  of  the  education  of  her  children.  They 
were  sent  to  the  best  schools  which  the  country 
afforded,  but  the  mother  was  not  content.  William 
was  in  Harvard  College  for  a while,  but  the  life  was 
not  for  him. 

“ I was  not  interested ; ” was  his  remark,  in  later 
years.  His  lessons  were  easily  learned,  but  made 


4 ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


little  impression  upon  him.  He  found  continual 
entertainment  in  everything  about  him ; was  fond  of 
nature,  of  music,  and  of  drawing,  showing  constantly 
the  possession  of  an  artistic  temperament.  In  col- 
lege he  made  many  friends,  who  remained  true  to 
him  through  life. 

He  did  not  graduate.  In  his  third  year  the 
authorities  decided  that  he  was  “ too  fond  of  amuse- 
ment,” and  he  was  rusticated,  — to  his  evident  satis- 
faction. That  he  might  keep  up  with  his  class,  he 
was  placed  in  charge  of  Rev.  Dr.  S.  P.  Parker,  of 
Stockbridge,  Mass.  There  he  enjoyed  himself  to 
the  fullest  extent,  and  was  overflowing  with  buoyancy 
and  delight.  While  in  college  his  health  had  not 
been  firm,  and  the  family  physician  feared  consump- 
tion. For  this  reason  he  was  not  overtaxed  in  his 
studies  while  at  Dr.  Parker’s,  and  was  allowed  much 
liberty  in  his  choice  of  amusements.  Music  and 
drawing  were  the  constant  pursuits  of  his  leisure 
hours.  He  sketched  cleverly,  and  gave  away  his 
work  to  all  who  cared  for  it.  He  was  in  the  midst 
of  beautiful  scenery,  in  which  he  took  a keen  delight, 
and  was  surrounded  by  charming  and  cultivated 
people.  He  was  described  as  “ a soul  let  loose,  — 
an  inspiration  for  every  one  who  met  him.” 

While  serenading  one  evening  he  took  a severe 
cold,  and  it  was  decided  that  he  must  avoid  a 
Northern  winter  and  go  to  a Southern  climate.  Mrs. 
Hunt  decided  to  go  with  him  to  the  south  of  France, 


EARLY  LIFE 


5 


taking  also  her  other  children.  Doubtless,  this  step 
changed  the  entire  course  of  his  life.  It  had  been 
his  intention  to  return  in  a year’s  time,  finish  his 
college  course,  and  enter  upon  the  study  of  surgery. 
The  profession  of  an  artist  would  not  have  been 
chosen  for  any  educated  American  at  that  period. 

Of  her  journey  to  Europe  with  her  young  family, 
Mrs.  Hunt  said,  later : — 

“ People  did  not  then  go  abroad  to  study,  and  I 
was  regarded  as  venturesome  in  the  extreme;  and 
in  truth  I did  not  realize  what  I was  doing  until  we 
were  half  way  across  the  ocean.  Friends  had  done 
their  best  to  discourage  me,  and  the  greatness  of 
the  undertaking  was  indeed  oppressive,  yet  there 
was  no  way  but  to  go  on.” 

After  visiting  the  large  cities  of  Europe,  the  family 
tarried  for  a while  in  Rome.  William  drew  and 
modelled  in  the  studio  of  H.  K.  Brown,  the  sculptor, 
where  he  copied  the  head  of  the  Naples  Psyche, 
restoring  the  head  as  he  imagined  it  might  have 
been.  So  good  was  the  work  that  his  mother 
ordered  it  to  be  put  in  marble.  Such  was  his  love 
of  art  that  a return  to  Harvard  College  was  given 
up,  and  the  plans  of  the  family  were  wholly  changed. 
The  two  youngest  sons  were  placed  in  Geneva,  at 
the  school  of  Alphonse  Briquet,  where  they  remained 
until  Richard  had  decided  upon  his  profession,  and 
began  his  work  with  an  architect  there. 

To  William’s  sensitive  nature  the  atmosphere  of 


6 ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


the  city  of  the  dead  Past  proved  inimical,  and  he 
was  taken  to  France.  About  this  time,  1844,  he 
seems  to  have  studied  for  a short  time  with  Antoine 
Louis  Barye,  the  great  French  sculptor  of  animals. 
He  was  generally  occupied  with  drawing,  modelling, 
and  cutting  cameos.  The  latter  art  he  had  begun  to 
study  in  Boston  with  a noted  sculptor  who  was 
famous  at  the  time  for  his  busts  and  his  shell-cameo 
profiles.  Intending  to  go  on  with  his  study  of 
sculpture,  he  was  advised  to  go  to  Diisseldorf,  then 
considered  the  art-centre  of  Europe,  and  to  follow  a 
course  of  study.  The  school  was  conducted  “ upon 
the  principle  that  the  education  of  art-genius,  of  a 
mechanic,  and  of  a student  of  science  were  one  and 
the  same  thing,  — a grinding,  methodical  process  for 
the  accumulation  of  a required  skill. ” 

The  friend  of  William  Hunt,  whose  words  we  have 
just  quoted,  goes  on  to  say:  — 

“ Although  Hunt’s  surroundings  were  agreeable,  socially 
and  artistically,  having  for  friends  and  companions  Lessing, 
the  president  of  the  Academy;  Sohn,  Leutze,  Schroedter 
and  others,  he  was  shocked  at  this  system  of  study,  and 
rebelled  against  it  from  the  start.  He  accepted  it,  how- 
ever, as  a necessity,  and  forced  himself  to  shut  out  to  a 
degree  the  enjoyment  of  a pleasure  which  he  had  thought 
was  inseparably  connected  with  art  study.  He  felt  then 
what  afterwards  became  an  abiding  belief,  a part  of  his 
life,  — that  all  the  qualities  of  an  artist  should  be  educated 
together;  and  that  the  development  of  an  artist  required 
a system  that  was  suggested  by  the  nature  of  the  art  senti- 


COUTURE 


7 


ment.  He  believed  that  the  study  of  art  should  be  a 
pleasure ; and  not  a forced  and  hateful  drill.  As  he  antici- 
pated pursuing  a course  of  study  in  painting,  he  looked 
forward  to  the  time  when  he  should  enter  the  painting- 
class  as  a moment  of  delight,  — the  entrance  to  a free  field. 
But  doubts  began  to  arise  regarding  the  value  and  future 
effect  of  the  instruction  he  was  receiving;  and  when  the 
time  came  for  him  to  enter  the  class,  these  doubts  became 
a certainty,  and  he  said  to  a friend : ‘ If  this  is  painting, 
and  it  is  to  lead  to  work  like  that  of  the  German  school,  I 
prefer  to  be  a sculptor.’  He  left  immediately  for  Paris, 
with  the  intention  of  entering  the  studio  of  Pradier.” 

While  waiting  for  the  opening  of  the  modelling- 
class,  in  the  autumn  of  1846,  he  made  a hurried 
visit  to  the  United  States,  returning  to  Paris  in 
December.  While  diligently  searching  the  city  for 
every  possible  object  of  artistic  interest,  he  passed 
by  Deforge's  art  store,  where  he  chanced  to  see, 
in  the  window,  Couture's  beautiful  Falconer . He 
stopped  before  it,  and  exclaimed : — 

“ If  that  is  painting,  I am  a painter  ! ” 

He  found  Couture,  and  entered  his  studio,  working 
with  all  that  abounding  energy  and  enthusiasm  that 
characterized  him  when  his  interest  was  aroused. 
To  his  surprise,  Couture  said  to  him:  — 

“Young  man,  you  don't  know  how  to  draw." 

This,  after  his  forced  application  in  Germany, 
astonished  him;  but  he  soon  discovered  the  differ- 
ence between  the  drawing  of  the  school-room  and 
that  of  a painter's  studio,  and  in  time  produced  draw- 


8 ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


ings  of  marked  excellence.  Morris,  as  he  was  called 
in  the  class,  was  a great  favorite.  With  Couture 
himself  he  was  in  perfect  sympathy;  and  under  his 
guidance,  certain  qualities  in  Hunt’s  mind  and  work 
unfolded  as  they  scarcely  would  have  done  under 
any  other  auspices.  It  was  not  long  before  he  had 
so  absorbed  Couture’s  manner  of  painting  that  the 
master  declared  that  his  pupil  had  carried  it  as 
far  as  it  could  go. 

One  day,  Hunt’s  fascinating  head,  The  Jewess , 
was  standing  upon  an  easel,  the  admiration  of  both 
master  and  pupils.  The  painter  Isabey  came  in, 
and  on  seeing  it  mistook  it  for  a success  of  the 
master. 

“ Good,  Couture ! Do  always  like  that  and  you 
will  do  well ! ” 

“ Ah,”  cried  Couture,  smiling,  “ that  is  by  Morris.” 

The  method  of  painting  in  Couture’s  class  was 
to  make  first  a careful,  and,  if  possible,  a stylish 
or  elegant  outline  drawing  of  the  subject,  adding 
only  a few  simple  “ values,”  or  shades,  with  a frottee 
of  thin  color,  and  leaving  them  to  dry  over  night. 
Next  day,  by  a formula  which  can  be  found  in  Cou- 
ture’s little  book,  “ Method  of  Painting,”  another 
thin  frottee  was  used  in  portions;  and,  with  long- 
haired whipping-brushes,  the  color  was  laid  on  in 
its  exact  place,  the  darks  where  they  belonged,  and 
of  the  right  depth  of  tone;  the  lights  thickly,  and 
with  startling  brilliancy.  Not  one  stroke  could  be 


COUTURE 


9 


retouched,  or  mud  would  ensue.  The  middle  tones 
required  the  utmost  nerve,  feeling,  and  decision ; 
but  their  quality,  when  good,  was  delightful  and 
fascinating.  No  wonder  that  this  method  of  paint- 
ing attracted  artists  and  students  from  every  part  of 
the  world ! It  was  a sublime  reaction  from  the 
dry-as-dust  German  painting  then  in  vogue,  and 
from  the  so-called  classic  painting  of  France  in  the 
early  years  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

Having  carried  this  method  of  painting  even  far- 
ther than  the  master  had  done,  Hunt’s  earnest  and 
progressive  mind  began  to  look  about  for  other 
fields  to  conquer.  Couture  had  painted  his  Deca- 
dence Romaine,  and  was  now  chiefly  occupied  in 
enjoying  his  first  success,  and  proclaiming  the  merits 
of  his  own  peculiar  method.  Hunt  took  a little  trip 
into  Holland;  and  while  making  a study  of  Rem- 
brandt’s Night  Watch,  so  called,  in  Amsterdam, 
found  that  his  Couture  palette  was  not  sufficient. 
He  must  buy  other  colors.  This  led  him  to  the 
study  of  the  works  of  the  old  masters.  Couture’s 
pictures  were  indeed  brilliant  compared  with  the 
works  of  contemporary  painters;  but  could  they 
vie  with  the  great  masters  of  Venice  and  of  Holland? 
No ; those  men  still  remained  unapproachable.  To 
this  fact  Hunt  gave  much  thought,  making  some 
faithful  studies,  especially  from  Rembrandt,  whom 
he  greatly  admired. 

At  the  time  when  he  felt  that  Couture  could  do 


xo  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


no  more  for  him,  he  began  to  be  interested  in  the 
work  of  Jean  Francois  Millet,  the  French  peasant- 
painter.  He  had  seen  his  wonderful  Sower  in  the 
Salon  of  1852,  and  was  greatly  impressed  by  it. 

“Why  don’t  you  buy  that  picture?”  he  asked  of 
of  an  art  dealer. 

“ Oh ! it  is  too  sad  a subject.  Besides,  it  is  not 
worth  the  three  hundred  francs  which  is  asked 
for  it.” 

“ What ! ” cried  Hunt,  “ a masterpiece  for  sixty 
dollars,  and  you  hesitate  about  buying  it?”  where- 
upon he  went  at  once  to  the  store-room  of  an  art- 
dealer,  and  became  the  possessor  of  the  first  painting 
of  The  Sower,  one  of  Millet’s  greatest  works. 

William  Babcock,  the  Boston  painter,  who  had 
passed  most  of  his  life  in  France,  was  probably  the 
first  American  to  appreciate  Millet  and  his  work. 
He  it  was  who  took  Hunt  to  Barbison,  and  intro- 
duced him  to  the  great  painter.  Millet  was  gener- 
ally considered  somewhat  of  a bear,  and  had  little 
to  do  with  other  French  artists,  except  perhaps 
Rousseau.  William  Hunt  came  into  his  life  like  a 
flash  of  sunshine.  He  became  attached  to  him,  and 
always  treated  him  with  respect.  When  Hunt  first 
saw  him,  he  found  him,  as  he  expressed  it,  “ paint- 
ing in  a cellar.”  The  picture  on  his  easel  was  The 
Sheep-Shearers , — exquisite  in  color  as  a Correggio, 
and  with  all  the  pathos  and  grandeur  of  Michael 
Angelo. 


MILLET 


1 1 

“ Is  that  picture  engaged  ?”  inquired  Hunt. 

“Yes,”  replied  Millet;  “ Deforge  will  take  it  for 
my  color-bill.  He  thinks  that  I shall  never  earn 
money  enough  to  pay  what  I owe  him ; so  he  will 
take  this  for  the  debt.” 

It  is  needless  to  add  that  Hunt  paid  the  color-bill 
and  carried  away  the  picture,  after  giving  several 
commissions  for  work  not  then  completed.  From 
that  time  his  interest  in  Millet  increased.  He  could 
not  help  contrasting  him  with  Couture,  who  was  then 
berating  every  one  who  did  not  follow  his  method. 
Of  Millet,  Couture  made  all  possible  sport;  ridi- 
culed his  pictures,  and  said  that  a man  who  could 
not  both  lay  in  and  finish  his  work  at  once  was  no 
painter.  He  drew  caricatures  of  Millet’s  subjects, 
and  said  that  the  artist  was  “too  poor  to  give  his 
peasants  folds  in  their  garments.”  When  he  found 
that  his  favorite  pupil,  Morris  Hunt,  had  left  him 
for  the  peasant-painter,  he  became  even  more  satir- 
ical and  bitter.  But  Couture’s  day  was  nearing  its 
end.  Whistler  was  in  Paris,  and  was  expected  to 
praise  the  popular  painter.  All  he  would  say  was, 
“ chic,  pure  chic” 

From  Millet,  Hunt  had  no  particular  instruction, 
but  they  liked  one  another,  and  delighted  in  each 
other’s  society  on  all  occasions.  Hunt  never  in- 
truded upon  his  seclusion,  but  was  always  ready  for 
a walk  in  the  forest  or  upon  the  plain.  On  these 
little  excursions  Millet  would  call  his  attention  to 


i2  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


the  “ value  ” of  a figure  in  the  field,  to  the  way  in 
which  a cart-wheel  settled  into  the  ground,  to  an 
effect  of  sunlight,  or  of  distance.  He  was  never  seen 
out-of-doors  painting  under  an  umbrella;  but  he 
took  mental  notes  and  used  them  in  his  work  at 
the  studio. 

Of  Millet,  Hunt  once  said : — 

“ His  pictures  have  infinity  beyond  them.  Cou- 
ture’s have  a limit.  I am  grateful  to  Couture  for 
what  he  taught  me,  but  it  was  well  that  I left  him. 
When  I came  to  know  Millet  I took  broader  views  of 
humanity,  of  the  world,  of  life.  His  subjects  were 
real  people  who  had  work  to  do.  If  he  painted  a 
hay-stack  it  suggested  life,  animal  as  well  as  vegetable, 
and  the  life  of  man.  His  fields  were  fields  in  which 
men  and  animals  worked ; where  both  laid  down  their 
lives;  where  the  bones  of  the  animals  were  ground 
up  to  nourish  the  soil,  and  the  endless  turning  of  the 
wheel  of  existence  went  on. 

“ He  was  the  greatest  man  in  Europe.  I give  you 
his  poetical  side ; but  he  was  immense,  tremendous, 
— so  great  that  very  few  ever  could  get  near  him. 
He  read  only  such  things  as  would  help  him ; knew 
Shakespeare  and  Homer  by  heart;  and  was  like 
Abraham  Lincoln  in  caring  only  for  a few  books. 
He  loved  Hamlet;  and  I once  found  him  laughing 
over  the  Clouds  of  Aristophanes.  It  was  splendid  to 
hear  him  read  the  Bible. 

“ ‘ Now  the  famine  was  great  throughout  the  land 


MILLET 


*3 


‘ What  a description  that  is  ! ’ he  would  say.  ' What 
a breadth  there  is  in  it ! It  could  be  expressed  in  no 
other  way.’  And  yet  people  say  that  the  Bible  can- 
not be  translated  into  French ! And  to  hear  him 
read  from  the  Book  of  Ruth ! He  saw  it  all  from  a 
painter’s  stand-point.  He  is  the  only  man  since  the 
Bible  was  written  who  has  expressed  things  in  a 
Biblical  way. 

“ When  I first  saw  his  pictures  in  Paris  I was  walk- 
ing through  the  exhibition  with  one  of  my  friends, 
and  we  were  delighted  with  them.  No  one  else  cared 
for  them.  They  were  called  des  tristes  affaires.  I 
was  in  Couture’s  studio  at  that  time.  He  cared 
nothing  for  them.  I went  to  Barbison,  where  Millet 
lived,  stayed  there  two  years,  and  was  with  him  all 
the  time.  I found  him  working  in  a cellar,  three  feet 
under  ground,  his  pictures  mildewing  with  the  damp- 
ness, as  there  was  no  floor. 

“ I bought  as  much  of  his  work  as  I could,  and 
after  a while  the  idea  was  started  in  Paris  that  a rich 
Englishman  was  buying  up  all  his  pictures.  The 
people  in  the  city  were  alarmed,  and  began  to  come 
to  Barbison  and  get  from  him  what  they  could.  It 
will  give  you  some  idea  of  the  low  prices  at  which 
his  work  was  then  sold  to  know  that  for  The  Sheep- 
Shearers,  the  most  expensive  picture  of  his  which  I 
bought,  I gave  ninety  dollars.  He  never  touched 
any  of  the  money.  The  man  from  whom  he  bought 
his  colors  had  written  that  he  must  either  send  him 


14  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


some  money  or  a picture ; so  he  set  to  work  to  com- 
plete this  painting.  When  I saw  it  I knew  that  I 
must  have  it ; so  I paid  the  man  ninety  dollars,  and 
took  a receipt  for  his  bill.  When  I thought  that  the 
picture  was  done,  — when  any  one  would  have  thought 
so,  — he  was  still  dissatisfied  with  the  girl’s  left  hand, 
which  pulls  back  the  fleece  from  the  shears.  He 
thought  that  it  had  not  the  right  action ; so  he  kept 
it  ten  days  longer.  Whenever  I went  to  see  him  he 
was  still  at  work  upon  it.  I asked  him  why  he  put 
no  wrinkles  or  markings  into  the  girl’s  cap.  He  said 
because  he  was  ‘ trying  to  make  it  look  like  a tea-rose 
leaf.’  And  that  was  the  man  whom  the  critics  call 
‘ careless  and  slovenly  ’ ! I would  n’t  let  them  see 
my  Millet  drawings.  Their  dry  eyes  would  burn 
holes  right  through  them. 

“ He  had  so  little  money  in  his  life  that  he  never 
owned  a hundred-dollar  bill  until  I gave  him  the 
money  for  one  of  his  pictures.  It  was  at  the  exhibi- 
tion, and  the  government  proposed  to  buy  it  for 
about  fifty  cents ; but  I was  sure  that  Mr.  Brimmer 
would  want  it.  When  the  exhibition  was  over  I 
carried  it  off  in  its  big  frame,  to  my  friend  Hearn’s 
studio,  — I had  none  in  Paris  then,  — and  took  Brim- 
mer there  to  look  at  it.  Millet  had  told  me  that  I 
might  sell  it  for  five  hundred  francs,  or,  possibly,  it 
was  less.  He  had  meant  to  sell  it  for  more,  but  had 
become  discouraged  about  it.  When  Brimmer  heard 
of  the  price  he  said,  ‘That’s  little  enough  for  it!’ 


MILLET 


i5 

and  took  it.  He  did  not  pay  for  it  immediately,  for 
he  was  going  into  Holland,  and  had  altered  his 
money  arrangements.  I told  Millet  that  the  picture 
was  sold ; but,  on  hearing  that  the  purchaser  had  not 
yet  paid  for  it,  and  had  left  the  country,  he  looked 
a little  distrustful,  for  he  did  n’t  know  Martin  Brimmer 
as  I did.  At  last  the  money  came.  When  I handed 
it  to  him  he  did  not  say  much;  but  he  told  me  next 
day  that  he  could  not  try  to  thank  me,  but  I might 
like  to  know  that  he  had  never  before  had  a hundred- 
dollar  bill.” 


1 6 ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


CHAPTER  II 

Millet,  concluded  — Barye 

“ X7"OU  ask  if  he  painted  much  out-of-doors.  He 
used  to  take  walks  and  look  at  things,  and 
study  them  in  that  way.  We  would  start  out  to- 
gether, and  perhaps  come  to  a cart  by  the  roadside. 
We  would  sit  down,  and  he  would  make  me  notice 
how  it  sagged,  how  the  light  fell  upon  the  wheels, 
and  all  sorts  of  things  about  it.  Anything  was  inter- 
esting to  him.  We  would  be  out  all  the  afternoon, 
and  perhaps  walk  no  more  than  half  a dozen  rods. 

“ Sometimes  we  would  go  up  to  Paris,  to  the 
Louvre,  and  he  would  lead  me  up  to  a Mantegna  or 
an  Albert  Durer,  and  show  me  what  were  the  great 
things.  After  Mantegna  he  would  say : — 

“ ‘ Now  where ’s  your  Titian?  ’ 

“ He  always  said  that  he  did  not  care  to  go  to 
Rome.  He  could  see  great  pictures  enough  in  the 
Louvre. 

“ The  country  people  about  him  did  not  understand 
him  very  well,  and  he  was  high  and  dignified  with 
them.  One  day  we  hurried  up  to  the  railroad  station 
at  Fontainebleau  after  a long  walk,  in  blouses  and 
sabots,  like  workmen;  for  he  was  a workman,  and  I 


MILLET 


17 


was  proud  to  call  myself  one.  We  were  hungry,  and 
the  train  was  going  off  in  fifteen  minutes.  I gave  an 
order  to  the  waiter,  and  he  was  uncivil  and  laughed 
at  us.  Millet  looked  up,  saying,  deliberately  and 
paternally : — 

“‘Mon  gar^on,  vous  etes  d'une  gaiete  extraordi- 
naire ! ’ And  the  waiter  was  entirely  subdued,  and 
served  us  as  well  as  he  could. 

“I  saw,  last  week,  at  the  New  York  Loan  Exhi- 
bition, his  Woman  Carding.  I remember  seeing 
that  the  first  day  that  he  worked  upon  it.  He  put 
it  in  with  transparent  color,  — an  excellent  way,  and 
at  a little  distance  it  looked  entirely  solid.  The  wool 
in  that  picture  is  just  what  Couture  could  not  paint : 
— the  lightness  and  indecision,  yet  the  solid  quality 
of  it. 

“ And  then  the  air  which  Millet  gets  into  his 
pictures,  and  the  way  things  go  back  ! I cannot  see 
how  he  does  it.  Of  course  he  could  not  and  did 
not  care  to  paint  the  sort  of  thing  that  Couture  liked 
best.  For  instance,  The  Boy  with  the  Soap-Bubbles. 
It  is  certainly  very  pretty,  but  Millet  would  not  have 
cared  to  paint  it. 

“‘Could  he  paint  portraits?’  Yes,  certainly  he 
could.  But  they  would  have  looked  not  as  other 
people  wanted  them,  but  as  he  did. 

“ He  would  not  paint  anything  pretty  or  fascinat- 
ing until  the  public  should  recognize  his  pictures  of 
laborers.  People  said  that  his  pictures  were  ‘ not 


1 8 ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


elegant.’  Look  at  that  woman  in  The  Sheep-Shear- 
ers ! There  is  more  elegance  in  that  little  foot  than 
in  all  that  Watteau  ever  painted. 

“ It  takes  years  to  see  the  one-ness  and  sombreness 
of  that  group.  It  is  most  elaborately  painted ; not 
only  with  feeling,  but  with  intense  and  patient  work. 
I bought  this,  and  many  more,  — some  of  which 
Millet  would  not  part  with,  and  I left  them  in  his 
possession. 

“ When  I found  him  he  was  desperately  poor,  but 
painting  tremendous  things.  He  felt  that  he  could 
do  strong,  great  work;  but  he  said  to  me,  ‘ How  do 
you  get  that  delicate,  facile  way  of  putting  in  little 
things?’  Of  the  Girl  and  the  Kid , he  said:  ‘No- 
body about  here  could  do  that.’  We  got  on  wonder- 
fully together,  from  first  to  last.  He  was  such  a 
giant  that  I was  but  a pigmy. 

“He  was  called  bearish, — never  mingled  in  the 
conversation  of  others.  The  world  had  ill-treated 
him,  and  he  never  quite  recovered  from  it.  He 
would  never  assist  me,  except  once  about  a drawing. 
His  advice  was,  ‘ Hunt,  you  ought  to  work ! ’ 

“ I thought  that  I was  working  hard ; but  he 
considered  me  a loafer. 

“ A man  who  knows  about  pictures  is  one  who 
picks  up  a good  thing  for  the  first  time  and  says, 
‘That’s  good!  It  can’t  be  surpassed!’  Babcock, 
one  of  Millet’s  firmest  friends,  could  have  bought 
collection  after  collection.  He  knows  what  is  good 


MILLET 


i9 


before  the  world  pronounces  upon  it.  Tailors,  actors, 
and  others  bought  Millet’s  pictures.  Rothschild’s 
cook  was  the  first  man  to  buy  one.  Actors  and 
singers  with  money  bought  them ; and  when  they 
went  away  to  St.  Petersburg  they  sold  them  and 
made  money  on  them. 

“ Millet  laughed  at  the  idea  of  travelling.  He 
went  from  Greville  to  Paris,  from  Paris  to  Barbison. 
He  could  find  all  that  he  wanted  at  home.  He 
would  say,  ‘ Any  artist  can  go  to  the  East  and  paint 
a palm-tree ; but  very  few  can  paint  an  apple-tree.’ 

“ Crossing  the  fields  one  day,  he  came  upon  some 
men  who  were  cutting  grain.  One  called  out,  * Ah ! 
Monsieur  Millet,  this  is  very  different  from  your 
work.  I would  like  to  see  you  take  a sickle.’ 

“ ‘ I ’ll  take  your  sickle,  and  reap  faster  than  you 
and  all  your  family.’  And  he  did  it. 

“ He  knew  the  form  of  every  tool  used  upon  a 
farm,  and  knew  its  uses.  Until  his  eighteenth  year 
he  had  labored  on  his  father’s  farm  in  Gruchy. 
Although  a peasant  boy  he  had  enjoyed  superior 
advantages.  His  mother  came  from  a family  of 
influential  yeomen  who  lost  their  property  in  the 
Revolution.  This  gentle,  devotional  woman,  the 
mother  of  nine  children,  was  forced  by  the  strange 
custom  of  the  country  to  work  in  the  fields  with 
her  husband,  while  her  mother-in-law  took  care  of 
the  children.  The  grandmother,  a proud-spirited, 
deeply  religious  woman,  had  great  influence  upon  the 


zo  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


childhood  of  Jean  Frangois,  whom  she  named  for 
St.  Francis  of  Assisi.  Her  son,  the  Abbe  Charles 
Millet,  lived  with  the  family,  and  taught  Jean  Francois 
to  read.  In  the  midst  of  his  severe  labors  he  thought 
of  what  he  read,  and  unconsciously  nourished  aspira- 
tions which  were  to  guide  his  future  life.  It  was  a 
serious,  often  a solemn  existence  which  he  led  in 
Gruchy,  perched  upon  the  iron  cliffs  of  La  Hogue, 
which  overlook  the  troubled  waters  of  Cherbourg 
Roads.  The  terrible  shipwrecks  upon  this  northern 
coast  of  France  sank  deep  into  the  soul  of  the  young 
peasant,  who  in  after  years  drew  his  inspiration  as 
a painter  from  the  remembrance  of  his  early  home. 
The  tender  pathos  of  some  of  his  working  women  is 
depicted  from  remembrance  of  his  mother’s  patient 
endurance  of  her  hard  lot.” 

When  William  Hunt  first  saw  Millet’s  pictures  he 
was  piqued,  but  he  was  fascinated.  Millet  had  left 
Gruchy,  and  was  living  in  Barbison,  within  easy 
reach  of  Paris.  Hunt  was  leading  the  gay  life  of  a 
cavalier,  with  his  splendid  horses  and  fine  hounds; 
every  moment  a joy  to  himself  and  to  others.  His 
boyish  gayety  brought  warmth  and  light  to  the 
humble  Millet  home,  and  he  was  always  sure  of  a 
hearty  welcome. 

In  return,  the  peasant-painter  had  a powerful 
influence  upon  Hunt,  who  cherished  for  him  the 
greatest  reverence  and  esteem.  He  began  to  take 
more  serious  views  of  life,  and  of  art.  Keenly  alive 


MILLET 


21 


to  all  beauty  in  nature,  and  to  the  wonders  of  art  in 
every  European  country,  he  longed  to  work  more 
earnestly  than  he  had  done.  He  moved  from  Paris 
to  Barbison,  inspired  by  the  presence  and  friendship 
of  Millet.  The  latter  in  turn  must  have  enjoyed  the 
companionship  of  the  young  man.  But  for  him, 
and  his  own  family,  Millet  was  living  the  life  of  an 
exile. 

Sometimes  the  two  (fiends  would  go  up  to  Paris 
to  see  the  exhibitions ; and  it  was  a feeling  of  com- 
radeship that  made  young  Morris  clothe  himself  in 
peasant’s  garb,  including  blouse  and  sabots,  that  he 
might  feel  the  more  in  sympathy  with  the  new 
master  whom  he  had  found.  The  Louvre  was  a 
favorite  resort, — especially  the  long  Italian  gallery 
where  hung  Rembrandt’s  Slipper  at  Emmaus , an 
especial  favorite  of  Millet. 

The  companionship  of  this  great  painter  and 
earnest  man  had  an  influence  upon  Hunt  which 
produced  a lasting  effect.  It  awakened  his  sym- 
pathy in  humanity.  From  that  time  the  world  to 
him  became  different.  He  developed  an  intense 
power  of  sympathy  which  largely  helped  to  make 
him  the  remarkable  artist  which  he  was  to  become. 
Whatever  he  loved,  he  loved  intensely.  Whatever 
interested  him  moved  him  deeply.  His  work  grew 
in  strength,  seriousness,  and  beauty.  He  had  all 
the  elements  of  a great  painter. 

For  his  worship  of  Millet’s  genius,  and  his  continual 


22  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


purchase  of  his  pictures,  he  was  known  in  Paris  as 
“the  mad  American.” 

While  with  Couture  he  had  continued  to  believe 
that  he  should  yet  become  a sculptor,  and  had  a 
studio  of  his  own,  where  he  modelled  and  cut  cameos 
until  he  went  to  Barbison  to  study  with  Millet.  At 
that  time  he  was  more  absorbed  in  painting ; but  he 
never  gave  up  his  love  for  sculpture.  Indeed  it 
followed  him  through  life,  and  had  an  undoubted 
effect  upon  his  painting.  His  single  figures  and 
portraits  continually  bore  evidence  of  this.  Some 
of  his  portraits  have,  first  of  all,  the  statuesque 
quality.  Witness  the  standing  portrait  of  Chief 
Justice  Shaw;  the  three-quarters  length  of  Mr. 
Sidney  Bartlett;  the  romantic  and  poetic  figure  of 
Hamlet;  the  exquisite  grace  and  pose  of  The  Boy 
and  Butterfly  ; not  to  mention  many  a sitting  portrait 
which  would  have  been  no  less  fine  in  marble. 

While  studying  sculpture  in  Italy,  he  made  a re- 
stored copy  in  marble  of  the  Naples  Psyche,  an  alto- 
relievo  portrait  of  his  brother  John,  a medallion  of 
Couture,  and  several  cameo-portraits  of  himself  and 
his  family.  Later  in  life,  he  modelled  three  magnifi- 
cent horses  from  which  he  painted  while  studying 
his  different  pictures  of  the  Anahita,  the  painting  of 
which  became  the  dream  of  his  life. 

The  years  1847-1851  were  well  filled  with  happy, 
earnest,  and  successful  work.  To  this  period  belong 
The  Prodigal  Son , The  Fortune  Teller , The  Hurdy- 


MILLET 


23 


Gurdy  Boy , Marguerite,  The  Jewess,  The  Cotter' s 
Saturday  Night,  Cupid  Listening,  and  other  paintings 
no  less  remarkable.  Hunt  had  studied  the  works 
and  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  best  modern  mas- 
ters in  painting  and  sculpture;  as  a student  had 
worked  in  the  style  of  many  of  them ; had  travelled 
through  Holland,  France,  Italy,  and  Greece;  had 
seen  Constantinople,  and  was  forming  his  own  in- 
dividuality, which  could  not  fail  to  include  a power 
to  find  and  acknowledge  the  best,  and  to  produce 
in  him  a mind  of  comprehensive  reach  which  re- 
mained to  the  last,  making  him  a force  which,  in 
any  other  profession,  would  have  been  felt  through- 
out the  length  and  breadth  of  our  country. 

It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  he  should  have 
been  so  quick  to  detect  the  limitations  of  Couture’s 
method.  He  saw  that  the  master  had  become  a 
defender  of  his  own  method,  instead  of  a painter  of 
good  pictures;  and  he  pressed  on  to  place  himself 
where  he  should  derive  inspiration,  and  if  possible 
procure  instruction  from  Millet.  A friend  of  Hunt 
writes : — - 

“He  took  up  his  residence  in  Barbison,  studying  and 
associating  with  Millet  on  the  most  intimate  terms.  They 
walked,  talked,  and  painted.  Millet  was  a good  teacher ; 
not  of  methods,  but  of  the  grand  principles  of  art  as  exem- 
plified in  the  works  of  the  Greeks  and  Italians.  Hunt  was 
a good  listener.  His  powers  of  appreciation  of  all  subjects 
were  enlarged.  He  saw  the  depth  and  grandeur  of  any 


24  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


subject  when  seriously  treated.  Millet  expatiated  upon 
the  character  of  light  as  it  affected  form ; upon  the  power 
of  shadow,  whether  reflected  from  an  antique  statue  or 
temple,  or  from  a simple  shepherd  in  the  twilight. 

“The  homeliest  subjects  had  an  interest  for  Millet.  He 
looked  at  them  with  the  serious  thought  of  a philosopher 
and  an  artist.  Light,  that  mysterious  element  by  which 
everything  exists,  he  regarded  as  another  divinity. 

“ Hunt’s  appreciation  of  this  great  master  grew  stronger 
and  deeper.  Millet  was  tender,  sensitive,  and  strong, 
with  an  unusual  power  of  developing  a subject.  Hunt’s 
keen  perception  and  correct  judgment  of  what  he  needed 
led  him  naturally  to  such  a master.  He  had  tested  the 
various  qualities  of  the  painters  of  his  time,  had  become 
familiar  with  the  old  masters,  and  felt  that  Millet,  like  them, 
had  elements  that  were  universal. 

“ Fully  appreciating  Couture,  and  in  no  sense  reflecting 
upon  his  capacity  or  the  vigorous  and  healthful  influence 
which  he  had  exerted  upon  the  artists  of  his  time,  Hunt 
felt  happy  on  finding  in  Millet  a tranquillity  and  strength 
which  he  so  much  needed.  He^decided  to  bend  all  his 
energies  to  painting,  and  began  another  and  fuller  art  life. 

“ During  his  residence  in  Paris  he  saw  much  of  Barye, 
the  animal  sculptor,  who  gave  him  a friendship  and  assist- 
ance of  which  he  spoke  with  continued  pleasure.  Barye 
taught  him  how  much  there  was  in  the  construction  and 
composition  of  a single  figure ; of  the  unity  and  compre- 
hension of  a subject,  and  of  the  steadiness  necessary  to 
work  it  out.  Hunt  believed  Millet  and  Barye  to  be  not 
only  the  greatest  men  of  their  time,  but  artists  who  were 
contributing  to  their  day,  and  to  coming  generations, 
individual  and  lasting  works  of  art. 


BARYE 


2S 


“ The  influence  of  these  men  upon  Hunt  was  shown  in 
the  subjects  he  treated,  his  style  of  work,  and  the  way  he 
looked  at  nature.  It  was  in  harmony  with  a definite  phase 
of  his  individuality,  and  was  a power  in  its  development 
during  the  remainder  of  his  life.  His  art  nature  was  varied 
and  positive,  and  he  gathered  to  himself  the  treasures  of 
many  minds.” 


26  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


CHAPTER  III 

Portraits  and  Ideal  Figures  — Settles  in  Boston  — 
His  Helpfulness  to  Artists  — Portrait  of  Chief 
Justice  Shaw  — Other  Pictures  — Hunt’s  Litho- 
graphs 


T TUNT’S  first  portrait  was  a three-quarters  length 
of  his  mother,  painted  in  Paris,  in  1850,  when 
he  had  a studio  at  3 rue  Pigalle.  It  was  queenly 
and  gracious,  — an  admirable  portrait. 

The  Roman  Girl,  owned  by  Mrs.  Claflin  of  Boston, 
was  painted  in  Terry’s  studio,  Rome,  in  1849  or  ’5°- 
His  fascinating  Hurdy-Gurdy  Boy,  1851,  was  the  first 
picture  of  his  sold  in  America,  and  was  bought  by 
Mr.  Edmund  Dwight  of  Boston.  The  exquisite 
work,  The  Belated  Kid,  begun  in  Europe,  was  fin- 
ished in  Newport,  R.  I.,  in  1857.  Of  this  picture 
Millet  said : — 

“ How  do  you  get  this  facile  way  of  working?  ” 

The  Violet  Girl,  also  begun  abroad,  was  completed 
in  Brattleboro’,  Vt.,  in  1856. 

Of  the  Girl  at  The  Fountain,  Hunt  said  that  he 
caught  the  idea  from  seeing  a coachman,  with  his 
many  capes,  leaning  against  a wall,  and  drawing  water 
for  his  horses.  He  exclaimed : 

“ If  that  were  a young  woman  with  a good  figure, 


Portrait  of  bis  Mother,  painted  by  William  M.  Hunt. 


PORTRAITS  AND  IDEAL  FIGURES 


27 


it  would  make  a picture.”  His  sister  gave  the  neces- 
sary pose , and  the  result  was  a firm,  serious  work,  — 
gracious  and  well  considered. 

The  deep-toned,  richly  colored  Fortune  Teller , a 
canvas  with  three  figures,  was  bought  by  Mr.  Frank 
Brooks  for  $300.  Later  Mr.  Gregerson  secured  it 
for  $800,  and  after  the  death  of  the  artist,  it  was  sold 
for  $5000.  It  was  painted  in  Paris,  while  under  the 
influence  of  Couture.  At  about  the  same  time 
appeared  the  remarkably  fine  Marguerite , — repre- 
senting a young  woman  with  full,  ripe  form,  exqui- 
sitely modelled.  The  simple  white  drapery  enhances 
the  beauty  of  neck,  shoulder,  and  arm;  while  the 
finely  poised  head,  with  its  luxuriant  dark  hair,  bends 
over  the  delicate  fingers  which  pull  to  pieces  a daisy 
with  its  fate-full  petals.  The  figure  stands  in  a 
wheatfield,  full  of  air  and  space,  and  the  yellow 
grain  and  red  poppies  are  in  gay  and  breezy  contrast 
with  the  serious  figure.  The  picture  was  much 
admired  in  Paris,  where  it  was  shown  in  the  Salon 
of  1852,  and  was  one  of  ten  selected  by  the  emperor, 
Louis  Napoleon,  for  purchase.  When  the  imperial 
message,  ordering  the  picture,  was  sent  to  the  studio, 
Hunt  was  absent,  having  left  the  place  in  charge  of 
his  brother  Richard,  who,  believing  that  the  picture 
had  been  engaged  by  an  American,  refused  to  let  it 
go.  A second  message  from  the  emperor,  almost 
a command,  met  with  a similar  reply.  When  the 
American  appeared  he  was  indifferent  about  the 


28  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


picture,  and  it  was  sent  to  Boston  for  exhibition. 
It  was  bought,  later,  by  the  artist's  mother,  for  $300, 
finally  coming  into  possession  of  Hunt,  who  sold  it 
at  last  to  Mrs.  Alice  N.  Lincoln  of  Boston  for  $2500. 
It  was  greatly  admired  by  Delacroix,  who,  on  the 
strength  of  its  merits,  invited  Hunt  to  come  to  his 
studio. 

A replica  of  this  picture  was  made  by  the  artist 
after  his  intimate  association  with  Millet,  and  shows 
the  influence  of  his  new  surroundings.  The  Couture 
method  is  wholly  laid  aside,  and  the  painting  marks 
the  artist’s  endeavor  to  paint  solidly,  and  without  un- 
due attention  to  technique.  The  former  work  had 
expressed  the  imagination  and  feeling  of  youth,  while 
the  latter  evinced  the  sober,  mature  thought  of  the 
man.  It  was  bought  by  Mr.  Martin  Brimmer,  of 
Boston. 

Among  the  paintings  of  Hunt’s  earlier  period 
was  The  Italian  Boy9  18 66,  owned  by  Mr.  Francis 
Skinner;  Girl  with  a White  Cap  (Mrs.  Hunt)  ; Girl 
with  a Cat ; Roman  Girl9  Mr.  Thomas  Lee;  Woman 
Knitting  (Mr.  Samuel  G.  Ward) ; Elaine  (Mr. 
Robbins) ; Child  with  a Rabbit  (Mr.  Brimmer) ; 
Beggar  Girl  (Mr.  Brimmer)  ; Girl  Reading  (Mr.  C. 
W.  Dabney);  The  Bugle  Call , 1864  (Mr.  Quincy  A. 
Shaw). 

The  list  is  only  a partial  one,  but  it  represents  a 
series  of  paintings  of  singular  beauty  and  complete- 
ness. Nearly  all  are  excellent  in  color,  exquisite  in 


Marguerite. 

From  the  original  painting  owned  by  Mrs.  Roland  C.  Lincoln. 


t 


\ 


PORTRAITS  AND  IDEAL  FIGURES 


29 


finish,  and  tender  in  sentiment.  They  are  distinc- 
tively of  Hunt's  first  period.  His  second  showed 
masterly  drawing,  a keen  perception  of  character, 
and  the  color  that  betrayed  the  storm  and  stress  of 
middle  life.  Later  we  shall  see  the  characteristics  of 
his  third  period:  a return  to  color  lighter  and  more 
pure,  with  great  gain  in  creative  force. 

While  studying  with  Couture  in  Paris,  Hunt  painted 
The  Prodigal  Son,  a work  of  power  and  significance. 
The  nude  back  of  the  prodigal  is  a remarkably  solid 
piece  of  painting.  The  flesh  is  luminous,  the  color 
harmonious  and  rich.  The  face  and  figure  of  the 
father  are  full  of  pathos  and  tenderness;  but  the 
prodigal’s  brother  is  not  worthy  of  its  place  in 
the  group.  The  artist  felt  this,  and  resolved  to  paint 
it  out ; but,  for  different  reasons,  deferred  the  work  of 
alteration,  and  the  rather  Academic  figure  remains, 
reminding  one  of  several  of  Raphael’s  figures  which 
do  not  seem  to  belong  to  the  pictures  in  which  they 
have  a place. 

The  painting  won  high  praise  in  Paris,  and,  on  the 
artist’s  return  to  America,  was  sent,  by  urgent  re- 
quest, to  an  exhibition  in  the  galleries  of  the  New 
York  National  Academy  of  Design.  The  picture 
was  not  liked  in  New  York,  the  verdict  of  the  artists 
and  of  the  press-critics  being  that  it  was  “ positively 
bad.”  One  journal  remarked,  that,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Miss  So-and-So’s  Flowers , it  was  “ the  worst 
picture  in  the  Academy.” 


3o  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


In  1867  it  was  shown  in  the  first  exhibition  of  the 
Yale  Art-School,  in  New  Haven,  Conn.  It  aroused 
the  ire  of  some  one  whom  Hunt  described  as  “ one  of 
those  sun-dried  remnants  of  American  art,  who,  like 
scarecrows,  remain  in  a cornfield,  even  after  the 
harvest  is  past.”  This  individual  declared  that  the 
picture  “ showed  what  could  be  done  with  a trowel.” 
Another  critic  said  that  it  “was  not  fit  to  be  seen.” 
Its  reception  in  Boston  was  no  better.  The  Athe- 
naeum would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  it  was 
generally  decried.  After  all  the  praise  which  it  had 
received  in  Paris  from  the  best  judges  of  painting,  the 
treatment  accorded  it  here  was  mortifying.  At  this 
juncture  the  artist’s  mother  came  forward,  bought  the 
picture,  and  declared  that  it  should  never  again  be 
seen  in  public  as  long  as  she  lived.  It  hung  in  her 
house  in  New  York  for  many  years,  and  still  remains 
in  possession  of  a member  of  the  family  who  lends  it 
to  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts  for  exhibition. 

On  returning  to  America,  Hunt  devoted  himself 
assiduously  to  portraiture,  and  for  this  was  best 
known  to  the  general  public.  His  achievements  in 
this  field  of  art  were  so  striking  in  the  character  of  his 
subjects,  and  so  signal  in  their  artistic  value,  that  had 
he  never  accomplished  anything  besides  these  por- 
traits, his  career  would  have  been  considered  a re- 
markably successful  one. 

By  his  marriage,  in  1855,  with  Miss  Louisa  Du- 
meresq  Perkins  of  Boston,  he  entered  at  once  into  the 


SETTLES  IN  BOSTON 


3i 


charmed  circles  of  what  was  considered  the  best 
society  of  the  city.  Here  he  met  with  the  most  cordial 
reception.  His  genius  was  recognized  by  such  men 
as  Judge  Lowell,  Judge  Gray,  the  Hon.  John  M. 
Forbes,  and  scores  of  others  scarcely  less  noted. 
Had  he  been  a lawyer  or  a statesman  he  would  have 
taken  rank  with  the  first. 

“ If  aristocracy  means  the  best,  then  the  more 
aristocracy  the  better.”  Hunt  had  all  the  elements 
of  greatness;  but  his  work  was  to  lie  in  a direction 
that  was  comparatively  new  to  the  American  mind. 
People  sought  him  for  his  brilliant  conversational 
powers,  his  originality  of  thought  and  action,  and 
his  rare  wit.  What  “ Hunt  said  ” was  on  every 
tongue.  Enjoyable  as  all  this  was,  perhaps  it  was  not 
the  life  most  to  be  desired  for  the  fostering  of  genius. 
Men  like  Barye,  the  great  French  sculptor,  — a man 
of  Titanic  power ; and  Millet,  the  masterly  painter  of 
French  peasants,  — their  character  and  surroundings; 
to  say  nothing  of  Corot,  Daubigny,  and  the  rest,  — 
all  these  were  living  humbly  and  seriously,  and  for 
their  art  alone. 

Had  Hunt  remained  in  Europe  he  would  have  left 
a name  second  to  none.  By  his  return  to  America  he 
entered  upon  a career  that  was  difficult,  depressing, 
and  wearisome.  There  was  no  one  here  to  whom  he 
could  look  up  as  to  a superior.  He  had  known  all 
the  great  artists  of  Europe.  Here  there  were  none 
that  could  feed  his  artistic  hunger  and  thirst.  Like 


32  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


all  noble  souls,  he  found  consolation  in  helping  those 
who  needed  encouragement  and  assistance. 

To  almost  every  artist  returning  from  European 
study  or  observation,  he  extended  a cordial  welcome. 
Each  found  in  Hunt  his  first  patron.  The  hospitable 
home  in  Beacon  Street  bore  evidence  of  his  taste  and 
liberality.  There  were  several  valued  paintings  by 
Millet,  a few  of  his  own  works,  but  more  by  his 
brother  artists,  Robinson,  Cole,  Babcock  and  Bick- 
nell. 

After  Hunt,  the  first  Boston  artist  who  studied  in 
Paris  was  J.  Foxcroft  Cole.  On  his  return  home 
Hunt  at  once  bought  four  of  his  paintings  and  helped 
him  to  a career  that  was  eminently  successful.  On 
the  return  of  A.  H.  Bicknell,  Hunt  bought  several  of 
his  pictures,  and  praised  his  work  so  heartily  that 
many  of  his  Venetian  subjects  were  sought  for  the 
best  collections  in  the  city.  He  welcomed  Elihu 
Vedder,  the  dreamer  and  mystic,  in  whose  work  he 
saw  great  possibilities.  When  Thomas  Robinson,  the 
animal  painter,  returned  from  Europe,  Hunt  bought 
at  once  his  Cow  and  Calf,  and  exhibited  it  at  the  first 
exhibition  of  the  Allston  Club. 

At  the  same  time  he  was  inducing  his  wealthy  and 
influential  friends  to  purchase  the  works  of  Corot, 
Millet,  Diaz,  Barye,  and  other  great  French  masters 
of  the  day.  He  exerted  himself  in  every  way  to  make 
his  townspeople  realize  that  they  were  living  in  an 
era  of  great  art;  and  through  his  influence  some  of 


PORTRAIT  OF  CHIEF  JUSTICE  SHAW  33 


the  best  French  pictures  of  the  day  were  purchased 
for  Boston  homes  and  galleries.  He  was  one  of  the 
first  Americans  to  own  bronzes  by  Barye,  and  to 
highly  extol  his  genius. 

In  1859,  the  members  of  the  Essex  County  Bar 
resolved  to  obtain  for  the  Court  House,  in  Salem,  a 
portrait  of  Chief  Justice  Shaw.  Hunt  was  living  in 
Newport,  R.  I.,  and  desired  to  paint  the  portrait  as 
an  entering  wedge  to  his  profession  in  Boston.  The 
project  was  generally  opposed  by  his  friends.  The 
especial  portrait-painter  of  the  city  was  Joseph  Ames, 
and  it  was  thought  that  two  men  in  that  branch  of  the 
profession  would  hardly  find  enough  to  do.  In  ad- 
dition, it  was  a matter  of  doubt,  — the  raising  of  a 
sufficient  sum  of  money  for  the  Shaw  portrait. 

“I  want  to  paint  that  portrait,”  said  Hunt;  “and 
I don’t  care  about  the  money.” 

About  one  hundred  dollars  had  been  obtained  by 
subscription  from  the  members  of  the  Bar ; and  ac- 
cepting the  commission  without  reserve,  Hunt  at  once 
began  upon  the  portrait.  It  was  painted  in  a small 
room  in  the  Mercantile  Building,  corner  of  Summer 
and  Hawley  Streets,  the  floor  space  being  so  limited 
that  the  artist,  while  painting  the  lower  half  of  the 
standing  figure,  was  forced  to  kneel  before  his  canvas. 

The  subject  was  one  that  would  have  appealed  to 
Velasquez.  Hunt  felt  this,  and  brought  to  the  work 
a full  understanding  of  its  possibilities.  Judge  Shaw 
was  a man  who  could  not  have  been  painted  by  an 

3 


34  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


ordinary  artist.  Hunt  felt  the  breadth  and  weight  of 
his  personality,  and  knew  that  it  must  stand  for  the 
highest  expression  of  Law  and  Justice.  He  had  a 
strong  and  decided  idea  of  how  the  Judge  was  to  be 
represented,  and  nothing  was  allowed  to  weaken  the 
force  of  that  impression.  When  Mrs.  Shaw  asked 
that  she  might  be  allowed  to  see  the  portrait  in  the 
course  of  its  painting,  Hunt  gently  but  firmly  refused. 

“ I was  painting  the  Judge  for  the  Essex  Bar,”  he 
afterwards  said,  “ and  not  for  the  family.  Mrs.  Shaw 
would  not  have  liked  it.  It  would  not  have  looked  as 
she  would  wish  to  have  it.  Had  I listened  to  her  my 
impression  of  the  man  as  I had  seen  him  would  have 
been  changed,  — perhaps  weakened.  I was  right  to 
be  firm  about  it.  I wanted  him  to  look  as  he  did  in 
court  while  giving  his  charge  to  the  jury;  not  as  he 
would  appear  at  home,  in  his  family.” 

The  sum  of  five  hundred  dollars  was  finally  paid  by 
the  members  of  the  Bar  of  Essex  County.  The  por- 
trait is  invaluable.  It  hangs  in  the  Court  House  at 
Salem,  Mass.,  and  is  the  Mecca  of  many  an  artistic 
pilgrimage.  Rightfully  it  is  considered  a memorial 
of  a great  artist  and  a great  Chief  Justice.  It  is  often 
likened  to  the  portraits  of  Velasquez,  and  is  remark- 
able for  its  wonderful  rendering  of  character,  and  for 
the  extreme  breadth  and  simplicity  with  which  it  is 
painted. 

On  its  completion  it  was  exhibited  in  the  gallery  of 
Messrs.  Williams  & Everett,  and  while  there  excited 


OTHER  PICTURES 


35 


more  derision  than  any  portrait  that  had  ever  been 
shown  in  Boston.  One  morning,  Mr.  Hammatt  Bil- 
lings, a well-known  architect  and  designer,  entered 
the  gallery,  and  found  a group  of  artists  with  their 
heads  together,  wondering  if  the  portrait  were  not  a 
joke.  They  stepped  aside  to  observe  its  effect  upon 
the  new-comer. 

“Well,  Mr.  Billings,  what  do  you  think  of  it?” 
asked  one. 

“ I think,”  was  the  reply,  “ that  is  the  greatest 
portrait  that  was  ever  painted  in  this  country.” 

The  by-standers  felt  that  they  had  made  a mistake ; 
that  here  was  a work  of  art  which  was  quite  above 
their  comprehension.  They  walked  away,  and  left 
Mr.  Billings  alone  with  the  portrait. 

A fine  drawing  was  made  of  the  portrait,  either 
before  the  beginning  of  the  work  or  during  its 
execution,  possibly  with  the  idea  of  studying  the 
subject  to  be  painted.  From  this  drawing,  photo- 
graphs were  made,  and  there  is  scarcely  a lawyer’s 
office  in  Boston  which  does  not  contain  one  of  these 
reproductions  of  Judge  Shaw’s  portrait.  Sometimes 
one  of  them  is  shown  in  a window  of  the  Old  Corner 
Bookstore  on  Washington  Street,  and  it  never  fails 
to  attract  a crowd  of  intelligent  observers.  In  Eu- 
rope, the  portrait  would  rank  with  the  works  of  the 
best  masters  of  the  art. 

Judge  Shaw  proved  to  be  a subject  with  whom 
Hunt  was  in  perfect  accord.  He  lent  himself  gra- 


36  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


ciously  to  the  work  of  posing,  seeming  to  feel  that 
it  was  his  duty  to  help  the  artist,  and  the  result 
showed  the  perfect  harmony  that  existed  between 
the  two  men.  Each  knew  the  other  to  be  a giant  in 
his  profession.  The  Judge’s  massive  head;  the 
rugged  vigor  of  his  features;  the  large,  character- 
istic hand,  were  painted  with  a strength  and  a grand 
simplicity  that  places  the  portrait  on  a par  with  the 
finest  productions  of  the  old  masters. 

In  1862  Hunt  took  a studio  in  Boston.  After 
leaving  Europe  he  had  lived  and  worked  in  Newport, 
R.  I.,  in  Brattleboro,  Vt.,  and  in  Fayal.  His  first 
studio  was  in  the  Highland  Hall  Building,  corner 
of  Walnut  Avenue  and  Warren  Street,  Roxbury. 
Here  he  painted  his  portrait  of  Mr.  Martin  Brimmer, 
and  later,  one  of  Mrs.  Brimmer.  In  1864  he  fitted  up 
a capacious  studio  in  the  old  Mercantile  Building  in 
Summer  Street.  Early  in  the  spring  he  gave  his 
first  reception  in  Boston,  and  it  is  said  to  have  been 
as  brilliant  as  it  was  original.  The  walls  of  the  great 
room  were  covered  with  paintings  by  him  and  by 
Jean  Frangois  Millet.  Other  receptions  followed, 
in  which  were  introduced  tableaux  and  impromptu 
acting  in  which  the  host  took  part,  to  the  delight 
of  all  whom  he  had  assembled  around  him. 

Soon  after  this  his  picture  of  Hamlet  was  begun. 
The  Dane  was  represented  walking  on  the  terrace 
by  moonlight,  wrapped  in  a long  cloak,  and  wearing 
a broad-brimmed  hat  with  a plume.  His  pale,  ner- 


The  Girl  at  the  Fountain. 

From  the  original  lithograph. 


LITHOGRAPHS 


37 


vous  face  was  most  expressive.  The  head  bent 
downward  towards  the  chest,  across  which  the  hands 
clasped  the  rich,  heavy  drapery.  The  figure  had  a 
grand  sweep  as  it  seemed  to  stride  up  and  down,  and 
was  painted  with  simplicity  and  power.  In  the 
background  the  towers  of  Elsinore  lent  a strange 
fascination  to  the  scene.  Bandmann,  the  actor, 
posed  for  the  figure;  but  the  face  was  said  to  be 
an  idealized  likeness  of  the  artist’s  brother,  Richard 
M.  Hunt,  of  New  York. 

In  the  earlier  years  of  Hunt’s  life  in  Boston  he 
became  interested  in  lithography  so  far  as  it  would 
enable  him  to  reproduce  his  own  work  by  its  methods. 
It  is  supposed  that  he  did  the  drawing  upon  the 
stone  with  his  own  hand,  although  the  name  of  Fab- 
ronius  appears  upon  two  of  the  lithographs  in  con- 
nection with  his  own.  Frizzell,  too,  was  known  to 
have  rendered  assistance  in  one  or  more  instances, 
doubtless  aiding  in  the  technicalities  of  printing, 
etc.  Messrs.  Phillips  & Sampson,  book-dealers  and 
publishers,  issued  a series  of  six  small  lithographs, 
of  which  the  price  was  three  dollars.  The  pictures 
thus  reproduced  were  the  Deer  in  the  Moonlight, 
Violet- Girl,  Hurdy-Gurdy  Boy,  Girl  at  the  Fountain, 
Fortune-Teller,  and  Boy  with  a Goose.  The  venture 
was  not  successful,  as  people  were  unwilling  to 
buy  the  series,  preferring  to  select  what  they  wanted 
at  the  rate  of  fifty  cents  for  each  picture  chosen. 
The  series  has  long  been  out  of  print;  but  occa- 


38  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


sionally  there  is  a call  for  some  of  the  more  pic- 
turesque subjects,  and  within  a few  years  a single 
copy  was  sold  at  the  gallery  of  Doll  & Richards 
for  fifteen  dollars. 

A few  other  pictures  were  reproduced  by  lithog- 
raphy, and  they  are  striking  examples  of  the  capa- 
bilities of  the  art  in  the  hands  of  a master.  Among 
these  pictures  are  Elaine , with  her  Shield , a sad, 
poetic  figure,  published  by  Doll  & Richards,  and 
probably  printed  by  Frizzell.  In  1863  appeared 
the  large  lithographs,  Marguerite  and  The  Bugle 
Call.  On  these  reproductions  appears  the  name 
of  D.  C.  Fabronius,  but  the  drawing  is  unmistakably 
Hunt’s.  The  Marguerite  is  a fine  presentation  of 
one  of  Hunt’s  best  pictures,  while  The  Bugle  Call 
is  spirited  and  stirring  to  a remarkable  degree. 


PORTRAIT  OF  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


39 


CHAPTER  IV 

Portrait  of  Abraham  Lincoln  — Action  of  the  Mas- 
sachusetts State  Legislature  — The  Portrait 
Burned  in  the  Summer  Street  Fire  — James  Jackson 
Jarvis  on  Hunt’s  Portraits — Kate  Field’s  Impres- 
sions of  Hunt,  his  Studio,  and  his  Work 

OHORTLY  after  the  death  of  President  Lincoln, 
^ Hunt  was  commissioned  to  paint  a portrait  of 
him,  with  the  intention  of  having  it  engraved.  The 
order  was  given  by  Mr.  Doll,  of  the  firm  of  Doll  & 
Richards.  It  was  stipulated  that  the  artist  should  have 
his  own  time  in  which  to  complete  the  work,  that  he 
should  select  the  engraver,  and  the  engraving  be 
subject  to  his  approval.  After  the  portrait  had  been 
painted,  the  commission,  for  reasons  satisfactory  to 
both  parties,  was  annulled.  Later,  Gov.  Andrew,  with 
other  friends  of  Hunt,  proposed  that  the  State  should 
purchase  the  portrait;  but  when  it  was  found  that 
there  would  be  some  opposition  to  this  on  the  part 
of  several  members  of  the  Legislature,  much  to  the 
regret  of  his  friends,  Hunt  insisted  that  the  matter 
should  be  dropped. 

“ I don’t  intend,”  were  his  words,  “ to  have  it 
said  that  my  friends  bullied  the  State  into  buying 
anything  of  mine,  if  I can  help  it.” 


4o  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


The  portrait  was  painted  in  May,  1865.  Gov. 
Andrew  wrote  to  Mrs.  Lincoln  with  a request  for 
material.  Pendell,  a man  of  the  same  height  as 
President  Lincoln  (a  door-keeper  at  the  White 
House),  was  sent  to  Boston  to  bring  his  master’s 
clothes,  and  to  wear  them  during  the  painting  of 
the  portrait.  His  description  of  the  President  con- 
firmed Hunt’s  idea  of  him,  and  he  posed  for  the 
action  of  the  portrait,  and  as  a lay  figure  for  the 
clothes.  Inspired  by  a subject  for  whom  the  artist 
had  the  highest  respect,  and  allowed  to  paint  the 
picture  without  interference  or  undue  suggestion, 
the  work  was  completed  to  the  entire  satisfaction 
of  Hunt  and  of  his  friends. 

During  the  painting  of  the  portrait  he  saw  few 
people,  with  the  exception  of  A.  H.  Bicknell,  who 
says : — 

“After  much  preliminary  work,  he  decided  upon  the 
general  treatment  of  the  portrait,  and  it  was  practically 
painted  in  a few  days.  I had  been  seeing  him  almost  daily 
at  his  studio,  — in  fact  assisting  more  or  less  until  the  out- 
line and  preparation  were  made  on  the  large  canvas  for  the 
final  work.  Then  it  was  perhaps  three  days  before  I saw 
him  again. 

“ It  was  nearly  midnight  when  he  came  to  my  studio, 
exclaiming : — 

“ ‘ Am  I too  late  ? I want  you  to  come  down  and  see 
what  I have  been  doing.  I don’t  know  where  I am.  I 
only  know  that  when  I came  out  of  my  studio  to-night  I 


THE  PORTRAIT  BURNED 


4i 


wished  that  there  had  been  some  one  there  to  have  kicked 
me  for  not  doing  better/ 

“ Of  course  I was  delighted  to  go  with  him.  As  we 
entered  the  studio  he  lighted  a single  gas-jet  near  the  door 
which  gave  me  light  enough  to  find  my  way  to  the  big  can- 
vas. Then  he  lighted  a long  row  of  gas-jets  overhead  and 
in  front  of  the  portrait,  and  walking  directly  to  me,  placed 
his  hands  upon  my  shoulders,  looked  me  full  in  the  face, 
and  said  : — 

“ ‘ Now,  no  nonsense  ! Tell  me  just  what  you  think  ! 
Is  it  a silhouette,  or  is  it  a substance  ? ’ 

“ There  was  no  need  of  speaking.  He  could  see  by  the 
expression  of  my  face  that  I was  immensely  gratified  with 
the  portrait.  For  an  hour  or  more  I stayed  there  listening 
to  the  delightful  descriptions  which  he  gave  of  his  methods 
of  work  during  the  last  three  days ; of  his  feelings,  and  of 
the  difficulties  and  obstacles  which  he  had  been  obliged  to 
overcome.  Evidently,  he  had  been  entirely  possessed  by 
his  work,  scarcely  giving  a thought  to  anything  else.  When 
he  bade  me  good-night  he  said  : — 

“‘If  that  portrait  isn’t  finished,  I am,  so  far  as  that  is 
concerned.’  ” 

It  is  not  known  that  the  portrait  was  ever  publicly 
exhibited.  Hunt  painted  it  for  himself,  and  had  a 
strong  regard  for  it.  He  felt  that  it  embodied  his 
idea  of  Lincoln,  and  he  knew  that  it  was  a fine  work 
of  art.  It  is  pitiful  to  add  that  it  was  destroyed  in 
the  Summer  Street  studio,  in  the  great  fire  of  1872. 
No  trace  of  it  remains  except  the  small  study,  full 
length,  and  exquisitely  painted,  owned  by  Mr.  J.  R. 
Gregerson. 


42  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


But  for  the  action  of  the  State  Legislature  the  por- 
trait would  now  adorn  the  walls  of  the  State  House 
in  Boston.  By  competent  judges  it  has  been  de- 
scribed as  “ the  only  portrait  that  had  a shadow  of 
merit  as  a representation  of  Lincoln.” 

In  the  Paris  Exposition  of  1867  there  were  several 
of  Hunt’s  portraits.  Of  these  Mr.  James  Jackson 
Jarvis  said:  — * 

“They  display  a refinement  of  characterization  and  a 
delicacy  of  handling  which  is  not  seen  in  the  more  labored, 
conventional,  European  portraiture.” 

Among  the  manuscripts  of  Kate  Field  was  found 
the  following  description  of  Hunt,  his  studio,  and 
his  work : — 

“ You  like  real  artists  and  specimens  of  real  art,  so  come 
with  me  into  Summer  Street,  mount  to  the  top  of  Mercantile 
Building,  pause  before  the  name  of  Hunt,  and  knock.  The 
door  is  opened  by  a tall,  thin  man,  looking  for  all  the  world 
like  Horace  Vernet,  and  when  crowned  with  a round  hat, 
resembling  Titian  as  painted  by  himself.  You  know  that 
you  are  standing  before  an  original  man,  before  one  who 
answers  his  own  questions ; you  feel  that  this  is  the  artist 
with  whom  you  have  come  to  shake  hands.  Hunt  has 
genius,  not  fully  developed  perhaps  (he  calls  himself  a 
student),  but  still  genius,  and  is  possessed  of  all  the  charm- 
ing simplicity  of  character  peculiar  to  it.  Cordial  in 
manner  and  tremendously  in  earnest  while  conversing  upon 
real  things,  you  thank  the  good  stars  that  have  led  you  to 
one  of  the  elect,  one  of  the  few  who  make  life  interesting, 


KATE  FIELD’S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  HUNT  43 


who  furnish  the  seasoning  for  the  social  pudding,  a man 
with  whom  you  can  sit  down  and  have  a royal  good  talk, 
from  which  you  arise  exhilarated  and  refreshed,  feeling  that 
you  have  got  at  whatever  of  truth  there  is  in  him;  for 
William  Hunt  hates  shams  in  all  forms  and  is  heroic  in  his 
treatment  of  hypocrisy.  If  Hunt  never  had  painted  a pic- 
ture we  should  still  thank  God  for  the  man. 

“ But  Hunt  is  an  artist  as  well.  One  could  wish  for  the 
sake  of  art  that  New  York  had  been  present  at  a reception 
given  by  him  several  months  ago.  The  event  marked  an 
era  in  the  history  of  American  painting,  as  we  scarcely  knew 
the  meaning  of  portrait  painting  until  William  Hunt  exposed 
his  recent  work  to  a few  hundred  Bostonians.  In  New 
York  such  an  exhibition  would  have  created  a profound 
sensation,  for  if  judicious  critics  took  off  their  hats  last  year 
to  Furness’  one  ‘ Young  Lady,’  they  would  have  got  down 
on  their  knees  before  the  score  of  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, humanities  with  their  souls  left  in,  standing  out  in  all 
the  grace,  beauty,  dignity,  or  quiet  simplicity  peculiar  to 
their  natures.  There  was  an  admirable  likeness  of  Hunt 
himself;  the  back  of  a female  head,  fine  in  pose  and 
color ; solid  men  strong  in  character,  with  no  superfluity  of 
broadcloth,  no  tables,  inkstands,  or  globes.  There  was 
the  portrait  of  a blonde  seated  in  an  antique  chair,  beautiful 
in  arrangement  and  Titianesque  in  color.  Near  by  hung 
the  profile  view  of  a lady  standing  in  a quiet,  black  dress, 
and  white  drapery  gracefully  thrown  over  the  head.  A 
more  distingue  and  thoroughly  dignified  yet  unpretending 
picture  was  never  painted  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
Two  fairy-like  children  were  charming  in  naive  sentiment. 
Then  there  was  a ‘ Mother  and  Child,’  most  original  in 
composition  and  most  admirable  in  execution.  . . . 


44  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“ Hunt’s  ideal  ‘ Hamlet,’  full  length  and  life  size,  though 
still  unfinished,  promised  to  be  fine,  while  his  i Abraham 
Lincoln  ’ will  be  a portrait  of  our  martyr  President  such  as 
we  never  expected  to  see  executed  by  a contemporary 
artist.  Lincoln’s  figure  was  not  symmetrical,  yet  there  is 
always  a certain  grace  in  natural  awkwardness,  and  this  has 
been  caught  by  Hunt,  who  is  en  rapport  with  his  subject. 
There  are  no  elaborate  accessories,  no  flag,  no  capitol  in 
the  distance,  no  statue  of  liberty.  The  background  is  per- 
fectly simple,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  canvas  is  Abraham 
Lincoln  in  all  the  height  given  him  by  nature,  in  all  the 
dignity  with  which  he  was  endowed  by  a great  Nation. 
There  he  stands,  with  his  hands  clasped  before  him,  dressed 
in  that  old  black  suit  which  by  long  habit  had  learned  to  fit 
into  all  his  angularities ; calm,  self-poised,  yet  majestic  in 
humility  and  so  pathetic  in  earnestness  that  silence  is  the 
highest  praise  one  has  to  give.  Hunt’s  Lincoln  is  the  man 
who  signed  the  Emancipation  Proclamation,  the  homely  hero 
so  dearly  loved  by  every  freedman  shivering  in  the  sunny 
South.  It  is  the  Lincoln  which  we  hope  will  find  its  way 
to  Europe,  that  the  old  world  may  see  how  noble  America 
can  be  in  art  as  well  as  in  nature.  Then  there  were  land- 
scapes full  of  truth  and  feeling,  and  several  pictures  by 
Millet,  the  great  French  artist,  the  poet  of  the  peasantry 
whose  work  is  so  real,  so  marvellous  in  sentiment,  that  we 
wonder  most  of  our  artists,  after  seeing  it,  do  not  break  up 
their  palettes  and  throw  away  their  brushes.  If  they  only 
would,  how  grateful  should  we  be  to  Millet. 

«•••••• 

“ There  are  New  Yorkers  who  have  gone  to  Paris  to  learn 
through  the  praises  of  Couture  that  there  is  such  an  artist 
in  America  as  William  Hunt.  This  year  they  need  not 
travel  so  far  to  learn  so  much ; it  needs  but  a visit  to  the 


KATE  FIELD’S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  HUNT  45 


Academy  of  Design  to  discover  that  there  is  one  fine  por- 
trait painter  in  this  country.  Of  course  Hunt  is  not  seen 
to  the  same  advantage  here  as  in  Boston,  for  he  has  many 
art  phases,  and  the  Academy  gives  but  two  out  of  the  many ; 
still  there  is  enough  by  which  to  measure  him  somewhat ; 
consequently,  after  looking  at  his  two  charcoal  sketches  and 
two  oil  paintings,  all  of  which  are  female  portraits,  one  is 
little  inclined  to  look  at  any  other  6 ladies  ’ and  ( gentle- 
men ’ that  stare  from  the  Academy  walls.  It  is  as  hard  for 
New  York  to  give  Boston  credit  for  anything  as  it  is  for 
Boston  to  allow  that  good  can  come  out  of  this  American 
Nazareth ; nevertheless,  Hunt  has  been  warmly  welcomed 
by  the  impartial,  and  the  Evening  Post  has  dared  to  place 
him  on  a pinnacle  far  above  any  of  his  contemporaries. 
The  pose,  the  maternity,  the  dress  — with  the  exception 
of  the  sleeve,  which  is  somewhat  chalky  — of  Hunt’s 
1 Mother  and  Child  ’ are  masterly.  You  love  the  picture 
for  its  sentiment,  and  you  like  the  artist  because  of  his 
power  to  feel  so  tender  a subject.  Perhaps  a still  better 
painting  is  his  portrait  of  a dark-eyed  lady  against  a delight- 
ful gold  background  of  stamped  leather.  Daring  in  its 
monotony  of  colors,  it  is  fine  in  execution,  and  as  a likeness 
is  unexceptionable.  Difficult  would  it  be  to  name  a portrait 
wherein  there  is  more  soul,  or  which  appeals  so  strongly  to 
one’s  intelligence.  It  all  but  speaks.” 

This  was  written  on  the  eve  of  Hunt’s  last  visit  to 
Europe,  in  1866,  and  Miss  Field  gracefully  said  “ Bon 
voyage ! ” to  the  “ enthusiastic  ‘ student 9 who  will 
grow  to  his  full  stature  in  the  congenial  atmosphere 
and  under  the  expanding  influence  of  French  artists 
and  European  galleries.” 


4 6 ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


CHAPTER  V 

An  Incomplete  List  of  Portraits  — Other  Pictures  — 
Characteristics  of  Hunt’s  Portraits — Mr.  Emerson 
and  Dr.  Holmes  — Mr.  Gardner  and  Mr.  Whittier 

TN  looking  over  an  incomplete  list  of  Hunt’s  por- 
traits,  one  finds  many  that  were  never  completed. 
Incessant  demands  were  made  upon  his  time  and 
strength,  and  the  work  of  painting  portraits  was  not 
always  congenial.  He  usually  received  at  once  a 
strong  impression  of  the  person  to  be  painted;  and, 
could  he  have  continued  a portrait  in  the  same  spirit 
in  which  it  was  begun,  the  result  could  hardly  have 
failed  to  become  an  artistic  one.  The  question  of 
likeness  often  gave  him  great  difficulty,  because  he 
was  not  willing  to  obtain  it  at  the  expense  of  any 
of  the  great  qualities  of  painting.  To  his  mind  these 
qualities  were  of  first  importance,  and  he  disliked  to 
lose  them.  With  untiring  patience  he  elaborated 
some  portraits  to  the  farthest  degree.  After  weari- 
some effort  in  this  direction,  he  would  begin  upon 
some  new  subject  that  especially  appealed  to  him, 
and  complete  the  work  in  a single  sitting,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  exquisite  portrait  of  Mr.  W.  T.  Thayer, 
which  was  painted  in  four  hours ; and,  later,  the  two 


AN  INCOMPLETE  LIST  OF  PORTRAITS  47 


full  lengths  of  Felix  Regamey  which  were  completed, 
each  in  two  hours  and  a half. 

One  of  these  quickly-painted  masterpieces  was  a 
portrait  of  a mother  and  child,  three-quarters  length, 
and  life-size.  Hunt  had  received  from  his  brother 
Richard  an  order  to  paint  his  wife  and  child.  The 
price  agreed  upon  was  one  thousand  dollars,  and 
Hunt  entered  upon  the  work  with  zeal.  Charmed 
with  his  subjects  he  painted  a masterly  study  for 
himself.  The  mother  seemed  to  be  walking,  with 
her  child  upon  her  shoulder.  Her  graceful  back  is 
shown,  and  both  figures  seem  to  be  living  and 
breathing,  — replete  with  vitality. 

Among  his  finished  portraits  which  were  com- 
pleted in  a short  space  of  time,  may  be  mentioned 
that  of  the  venerable  Mr.  Allan  Wardner  of  Windsor, 
Vt.,  the  father  of  Mrs.  W.  M.  Evarts.  Of  this  por- 
trait, Hunt  once  said : — 

“ I always  dislike  to  work  away  from  my  studio, 
but,  as  several  members  of  the  Evarts  family  were  to 
be  painted,  there  was  no  help  for  it.  I used  to  go 
to  Mr.  Wardner’s  room  and  study  him  while  we 
talked.  One  day  the  family  had  gone  away  on  some 
excursion,  so  I took  my  paints  into  his  room,  and 
by  night  the  portrait  was  done.  As  it  was  growing 
dark  I took  it  out  upon  the  lawn  to  see  what  it  was 
like,  and  some  of  the  neighbors  came  over  to  see  it. 
They  thought  that  it  would  do  pretty  well  when  it 
was  finished. 


48  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“‘You  are  going  to  finish  it  more?’  was  the 
inquiry. 

“ ‘ Oh,  yes.  I have  a good  north  light  in  my 
Boston  studio,  and  I shall  take  it  down  there  and 
finish  it,’  which  I did  by  giving  it  a coat  of  varnish.” 

So  popular  were  Hunt’s  portraits  that  he  had  little 
time  in  which  to  paint  the  ideal  and  poetic  themes 
which  peopled  his  fertile  fancy.  He  had  a quick 
perception  of  beauty,  and  rare  susceptibility  to  its 
influence.  He  had  also  a keen  understanding  of 
character  and  temperament,  and  a thoroughly  artis- 
tic manner  of  treating  every  subject  that  came  within 
his  range  of  work. 

In  the  earlier  stages  of  his  career,  there  was  a dis- 
tinct fascination  about  his  portraits  and  other  figure 
subjects.  At  that  time  the  photograph  had  not 
popularly  been  set  up  as  the  ideal  to  be  followed. 
An  artist  was  allowed  to  produce  a portrait  that 
should  be  a work  of  art  instead  of  a rigidly  correct 
likeness. 

Among  his  portrait  subjects  were  Mr.  Edward 
Wheelwright,  Mrs.  R.  Coolidge,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dabney, 
Miss  M.  Forbes,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Samuel  Powell,  Mr. 
Paine,  Mrs.  Swett,  President  Walker  of  Cambridge, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  C.  Winthrop,  Jr.,  Mrs.  Borland 
and  daughter,  Miss  Mary  Forbes,  Miss  Sarah  Forbes, 
Mr.  Blanchard,  Mrs.  Robert  Sturgis,  Mrs.  William 
Bacon,  two  children  of  Mr.  Tweedy  of  Newport,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  J.  Abbot,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bangs,  Mr.  and 


The  Boy  and  Butterfly. 

From  the  original  painting  owned  by  Mrs.  Richard  M.  Hunt. 


OTHER  PICTURES 


49 


Mrs.  Frank  Brooks,  Mrs.  Leverett  Saltonstall,  Mrs. 
Samuel  G.  Ward,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Heard,  Dr.  Dalton, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Long  and  daughter,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Milton  H.  Sanford,  Mrs.  Loring,  the  children 
of  Mrs.  Livermore  and  of  Mrs.  Dabney;  the  father 
of  Judge  Gray,  Major  Jarvis,  Mrs.  R.  M.  Hunt  and 
child,  Mrs.  J.  M.  Forbes,  Miss  Russell,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
W.  M.  Evarts,  Judge  Hoar,  Mr.  H.  Wolcott,  Mr.  H. 
Wolcott,  Jr.,  Mr.  George  H.  Calvert  of  Newport, 
Mrs.  Iasigi,  Judge  Lowell,  Hon.  Charles  Francis 
Adams,  Mrs.  Adams,  Master  Gardner  of  the  Boston 
Latin  School,  Mr.  James  M.  Beebe,  Rev.  Dr.  James 
Freeman  Clarke,  Mr.  Andrew  Wheelwright,  Mr.  B. 
Schlesinger,  Gov.  John  A.  Dix  of  New  York  State, 
Hon.  Oliver  Ames,  and  several  members  of  his 
family;  Judge  Dwight  Foster  and  daughters,  Gov- 
ernor Andrew,  Mr.  Sydney  Bartlett,  Mrs.  Claflin  and 
daughter,  Messrs.  Morrell,  Somerby,  and  Isaac  Fenno,. 
Mrs.  Fenno  and  her  mother,  Mrs. Blake;  Archbishop 
Williams,  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  General  Grant. 

His  absorption  in  portrait  painting  did  not  prevent 
an  occasional  return  to  the  subjects  in  which  he  had 
found  especial  enjoyment.  The  Drummer  Boy  is 
an  epic  poem,  — a work  full  of  virility  and  enthu- 
siasm, embodied  in  the  noble,  handsome  figure  of  a 
boy  who  was  evidently  posed  high  above  the  artist’s 
head,  against  a sky  background.  His  Boy  Chasing  a 
Butterfly  is  an  exquisite  creation.  The  lithe,  supple 
figure  of  a boy  stands  in  front  of  a background  of 

4 


50  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


shrubbery,  stretching  upward  his  arm  and  balancing 
on  one  foot  that  he  may  catch  a yellow  butterfly. 
The  attitude  is  one  of  exceeding  grace  and  charm, 
the  pose  full  of  action,  and  the  figure  seems  instinct 
with  life.  It  has  the  ruddy  hue  of  childhood ; and 
the  beautiful  head,  with  its  golden,  clustering  curls, 
is  worthy  of  Correggio. 

At  the  time  of  painting  this  picture  he  had  com- 
pleted a portrait  of  the  young  daughter  of  Mrs.  A.  D. 
Williams  of  Roxbury;  a sitting  figure,  marked  by 
nobility  of  sentiment  as  well  as  by  the  beautiful 
characteristics  of  young  maidenhood.  Left  to  paint 
the  portrait  according  to  his  own  ideas,  he  had 
greatly  enjoyed  the  work.  Miss  Williams  was  about 
to  sail  for  Europe,  but  gave  her  time  with  patience 
and  sweetness.  As  she  was  arranging  the  date  for 
her  final  sitting,  she  stood,  for  a moment,  hat  in 
hand,  toying  with  the  flowers  that  surrounded  it. 

“ I must  paint  you  like  that ! ” exclaimed  Hunt. 

Although  the  day  for  sailing  was  drawing  near, 
both  mother  and  daughter  entered  heartily  into  the 
plan  for  another  picture,  and  in  about  three  days  the 
beautiful  painting,  The  New  Marguerite , was  com- 
pleted. It  was  soon  purchased  by  Mr.  R.  M.  Hunt 
of  New  York,  brother  of  the  artist;  and  for  years  the 
memory  of  these  ladies  was  cherished  by  the  painter, 
so  cordially  had  they  assisted  him  to  complete  the 
work.  When  the  first  portrait  was  finished,  Mrs. 
Williams  shed  tears  of  joy,  and  said : — 


The  New  Marguerite. 

From  a photograph  of  the  original  painting  owned  by  Mrs. 
Richard  M.  Hunt. 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  HUNT’S  PORTRAITS  51 


“ Why,  Mr.  Hunt,  you  really  know  my  daughter 
better  than  I do  ! ” 

When  he  painted  a portrait  he  tried  to  express  the 
best  qualities  of  the  mind  of  the  sitter ; the  sensibility, 
the  fine  aspiration.  It  has  been  said  that  no  artist 
since  Da  Vinci  has  possessed  this  great  talent  to  such 
a degree  as  Hunt.  It  is  a high  and  rare  faculty  that 
can  go  beyond  the  person  represented.  It  is  one  of 
the  possibilities  of  genius,  but  it  also  brings  to  the 
portrait  painter  who  possesses  it  untold  difficulties 
with  his  patrons.  Unconsciously,  the  photograph  has 
been  accepted  as  the  criterion  of  what  constitutes  a 
good  likeness.  The  ordinary  painter,  with  a faculty 
for  getting  a likeness,  is  more  popular  than  the  artist 
who  aims  to  paint  the  character,  the  soul  of  his 
sitter;  and  Hunt  had  endless  difficulty  in  satisfying 
many  an  exacting  patron.  The  few  who  begged  him 
to  go  on  and  paint  as  he  pleased  are  now  the  pos- 
sessors of  portraits  which  will  always  be  valuable 
as  works  of  art. 

His  slightest  work  was  sure  to  be  characterized  by 
something  individual  and  charming,  — grace  of  out- 
line, perfect  idea  of  balance,  and  a certain  style  which 
belonged  to  him,  as  the  style  of  Titian  and  Moroni 
belonged  to  them. 

The  interest  which  he  took  in  a portrait  was  the 
interest  which  he  felt  in  living  human  nature.  The 
sensitiveness  which  he  brought  to  his  work  was  so 
great  that  the  slightest  friction  disturbed  him.  He 


52  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


worked  most  rapidly  and  successfully  whenever  he 
found  a like  sensibility  in  his  sitter. 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  he  could  not  have 
completed  his  portraits  of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson 
and  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes.  The  latter  came 
for  a sitting  which  he  said  must  be  short  as  he  had 
an  engagement  in  Cambridge. 

“ How  long  must  I sit?”  inquired  the  doctor  as  he 
took  his  seat  upon  the  artist’s  platform,  and  looked 
anxiously  at  his  watch. 

This  threw  Hunt  off  at  once.  He  began,  however, 
and  was  progressing  with  his  usual  rapidity  and  vim 
when  the  question  was  repeated  and  the  watch  once 
more  consulted.  Again  was  he  thrown  off,  and  it 
became  a mental  and  physical  impossibility  to  go 
on  with  the  work.  The  distinguished  sitter  was 
dismissed,  and  another  appointment  was  never 
made. 

In  like  manner  Mr.  Emerson  took  the  chair  un- 
willingly. 

“For  myself,”  said  the  great  philosopher,  “I  do 
not  care  to  be  painted.  I sit  to  oblige  my  family 
and  friends.” 

“ This  remark,”  said  the  artist  later,  “ deprived  me 
of  the  enthusiasm  necessary  for  my  work,  and  it  was 
a wrong  view  for  Mr.  Emerson  to  take.  As  a man 
of  genius  and  historic  fame  he  should  have  felt  that 
he  ought  to  be  painted.” 

The  sketch  that  was  made  showed  that  a fine  por- 


PORTRAITS  OF  EMERSON  AND  GARDNER  53 


trait  would  have  resulted  had  it  been  possible  for  him 
to  go  on  with  the  work.  He  greatly  admired  Emer- 
son, and  was  enthusiastic  over  an  opportunity  to  paint 
him.  The  incident  gives  a clue  to  the  history  of  the 
painting  of  many  of  Hunt’s  portraits.  Some  great 
men  he  could  not  paint ; of  some  lesser  men  he  made 
striking  and  artistic  portraits. 

A lady  asked  him:  “Would  you  paint  Mr.  A.  if 
I could  persuade  him  to  sit  for  his  portrait?”  and 
Hunt  replied : — 

“ I don’t  like  persuaded  sitters.  I never  could 
paint  a cat  if  the  cat  had  any  scruples,  religious, 
superstitious,  or  otherwise,  about  sitting.” 

But,  jesting  aside,  this  want  of  rapport  between 
Hunt  and  many  of  his  sitters  caused  great  difficulty 
in  filling  some  of  his  orders.  In  a majority  of  cases 
no  escape  was  afforded  him.  He  was  followed  up 
closely,  sittings  were  almost  demanded,  especially  by 
women  who  must  have  “ Hunt  portraits  ” in  their 
houses,  and  whose  persistence  was  often  so  great  as 
to  carry  the  painter  along  with  them,  and  make  him 
not  only  willing  but  anxious  to  complete  a picture 
that  any  one  so  much  desired  to  possess. 

When  he  painted  Mr.  Francis  Gardner,  Master  of 
the  Boys’  Latin  School  in  Boston,  1871,  he  was 
waited  upon  by  a deputation  from  the  school,  of 
whom  Hunt  remarked : — 

“ The  boys  said  that  they  could  only  raise  three 
hundred  dollars ; but  I was  so  pleased  with  the  idea 


54  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


of  their  wanting  a portrait  of  their  master  that  I 
agreed  to  do  what  I could  for  them  at  that  price. 
At  first  thought  I felt  that  he  ought  to  be  painted 
with  a Latin  grammar  in  one  hand,  and  a ferule  in 
the  other;  but  when  I came  to  see  the  man  I knew 
that  he  should  be  painted  for  himself  alone.” 

In  three  days  the  portrait  was  done,  and  was  so 
veritable  a presence  in  the  studio  that  Hunt  him- 
self confessed  to  having  been  startled  by  it  as  he 
entered  the  room,  the  morning  after  its  completion, 
and  thought  that  Master  Gardner  had  come  to  see 
him  and  was  awaiting  his  arrival.  A fine  etching 
of  the  portrait  was  afterwards  made  by  W.  H.  W. 
Bicknell. 

Mr.  Augustine  Jones,  principal  of  the  Friends’ 
School  in  Providence,  R.  I.,  wishing  to  obtain  a 
portrait  of  the  poet  Whittier  for  that  institution, 
went  to  Hunt  and  asked  him  if  he  would  accept  the 
commission. 

“ I should  be  delighted  to  paint  him  ! ” exclaimed 
Hunt.  “It  is  just  what  I wish  to  do.” 

“ Could  you  tell  me  how  many  sittings  you  would 
require?”  asked  Mr.  Jones. 

“ No,  I can’t  tell  anything  about  it,”  answered 
Hunt.  “ It  is  just  like  going  a-fishing.” 

Whittier  had  seen  Hunt,  and  liked  him;  but  he 
had  been  accustomed  to  pose  for  another  portrait 
painter,  and  when  it  came  to  the  question  of  arrang- 
ing for  the  necessary  sittings  with  Hunt,  his  thoughts 


Francis  Gardner,  Master  of  the  Boston  Latin  School. 


55 


Wffi': 

PORTRAIT  OF  WHITTIER 

reverted  to  the  painter  to  whom  he  had  become 
accustomed,  and  he  said : — 

“ I will  sit  to  Mr.  P.,  as  I have  done  before.  He 
can  copy  the  original  portrait,  and  I will  sit  to  him 
for  necessary  emendations.” 

Whittier  was  like  the  pale  moonlight,  serene  and 
calm.  Perhaps  he  shrank  somewhat  from  Hunt’s 
pyrotechnics  of  manner  and  speech,  not  comprehend- 
ing the  fact  that  he  was  capable  of  quiet  and  gentle 
moods.  He  was  as  true  to  his  own  portraitist  as  if 
there  had  been  a compact  between  them. 


I 


5 6 ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


CHAPTER  VI 

Reminiscences  — Visit  to  Concord,  Mass.  — Helpful- 
ness to  Artists  — Anecdotes  of  his  Life  in  France 
— Appreciation  of  Others,  and  their  Work  — Anec- 
dotes of  his  Student  Life  Abroad 

T7VERY  one  who  knew  Hunt  had  some  pleasant 
incident  of  his  life  to  recall,  but  few  of  his 
more  intimate  friends  are  now  living.  Mr.  Bicknell 
contributes  the  following  reminiscences : — 

“It  was  early  in  June,  1864,  while  the  apple-trees  were 
still  in  blossom,  when  Mr.  Hunt  invited  me  to  go  with 
him  to  Concord,  and  there  I remained  for  two  weeks  as 
his  guest.  We  drove  there  with  a span  of  his  horses,  travel- 
ling in  a leisurely  way,  stopping  frequently  to  admire  and 
comment  on  the  views.  Occasionally  he  would  jump  out 
from  the  carriage  to  get  a better  view  of  the  road-sides, 
then  return  and  hold  the  horses  while  I did  the  same. 
He  was  in  a delightful  mood,  intensely  entertaining  as 
well  as  instructive.  His  family  was  staying  in  Concord 
at  the  time,  and  we  arrived  at  the  hotel  just  as  the  supper- 
bell  was  ringing.  After  tea  we  strolled  down  to  the  Old 
Manse,  where  we  met  Mr.  Channing,  who  took  us  up  the 
river  in  his  boat  to  see  the  charming  places  which  are 
so  intimately  associated  with  the  memory  of  Hawthorne. 
We  came  back  in  the  moonlight. 

“ What  tramps  we  had  over  hills,  fields,  and  meadows  ! 


REMINISCENCES 


57 


In  our  evening  walks  the  effects  of  moonlight  were  chiefly 
in  his  thoughts,  for  at  this  time  he  was  painting  Hamlet. 
He  would  slip  off  his  coat  for  me  to  see  what  relation 
existed  between  his  white  shirt-sleeves  and  the  sky  and 
landscape.  Then  I would  do  likewise  that  he  might  make 
some  notes.  Such  delightful,  precious  companionship  I 
had  never  before  known.  It  was  a revelation  to  me. 
From  that  time  until  he  went  abroad  in  the  summer  of 
1866,  I was  in  personal  relation,  ■ — very  near  the  real 
Mr.  Hunt.  His  hopes  and  aspirations  were  spoken  of  to 
me  with  the  greatest  frankness,  and  I could  not  escape 
the  feeling  that  I enjoyed  his  entire  confidence. 

“ In  all  these  years  he  was  most  helpful  to  me  in  giving 
advice  and  suggestion  about  my  work,  and  his  great 
personal  influence  was  often  given  to  advance  my  interests. 
At  times  he  would  say : — 

“ ‘ If  there  is  anything  in  this  world  that  I can  do  for 
you,  let  me  know,  and  I will  do  it  gladly.’ 

“ When  absent  from  town,  he  left  in  my  care  the  key  of 
his  studio  in  the  Mercantile  Building,  with  the  words : — 

" ‘ Don’t  fail  to  make  yourself  at  home  there  ! ’ 

“ Those  who  have  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  visiting 
that  studio  will  not  need  to  be  told  of  the  wealth  of  art 
treasures  which  it  contained,  or  of  the  great  privilege 
accorded  me. 

“While  Mr.  Hunt  was  sympathetic  and  tenderly  kind 
to  those  who  were  suffering,  heavily  burdened,  or  blindly 
struggling  to  do  something  in  art,  he  had  a righteous 
hatred  for  shams,  and  instinctively  separated  the  true  from 
the  false.  Ignorance  he  could  pardon;  but  arrogance 
and  hypocrisy  were  to  him  unpardonable  sins.  Those 
who  knew  him  only  through  his  work  have  no  conception 


5 8 ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


of  what  an  unutterably  lovable  man  he  was,  nor  can  they 
understand  how  closely  the  ties  of  affection  bound  him 
to  his  friends,  or  his  friends  to  him. 

“ I had  occasion  to  paint  a Roman  Peasant  Girl,  and 
had  almost  despaired  of  getting  a suitable  costume  for 
the  model  when  I chanced  to  mention  it  to  Mr.  Hunt. 

“ ‘ Perhaps  I can  help  you/  he  said ; ‘ I will  see  what 
can  be  done.' 

“ To  my  amazement  he  appeared,  early  on  the  next 
morning,  with  the  articles  required.  He  had  risen  early 
on  that  cold  winter  morning,  and,  without  waiting  for 
breakfast,  saddled  his  horse,  and  ridden  several  miles  into 
the  country  to  oblige  a young  painter  whom  he  had  hardly 
known  as  many  weeks  as  he  had  ridden  miles  on  that 
cold  morning.” 

In  his  efforts  to  lend  a helping  hand  to  his  fellow- 
artists  he  sometimes  found  himself  unable  to  become 
interested  in  their  work.  He  once  asked  a friend : — 

“ What  is  the  matter  with  Blank's  pictures?  I go 
into  his  studio,  and  look  to  see  if  I can’t  find  some- 
thing which  I like  so  much  that  I must  have  it.  But 
I can’t  find  it." 

“ He ’s  cold-hearted.  That's  the  trouble." 

“ Yes,  you  have  hit  it.  That's  just  the  trouble." 

Of  his  student  life  abroad  a few  anecdotes  have 
been  preserved : — 

While  living  in  Paris  he  was  challenged  to  fight 
a duel  by  the  Count  de  C — — s.  Hunt  had  hired 
a studio,  when  the  Count  offered  a higher  price 


ANECDOTES  OF  HUNT’S  LIFE  IN  FRANCE  59 

and  obtained  the  room.  When  he  came  to  take 
possession,  Hunt  ordered  him  not  to  enter,  telling 
him  what  he  thought  of  his  conduct.  The  Count 
left,  but  sent  back  two  officers  with  a challenge 
which  Hunt  refused  to  accept. 

“ No  gentleman  would  refuse  to  fight ! ” said  the 
Count. 

“ I do  not  refuse,”  replied  Hunt,  “ but  I do  not 
choose  that  you  shall  tell  me  when  and  where  to 
do  it.  I came  here  to  paint  and  to  amuse  myself,  and 
not  to  learn  French  customs  of  you.  If  you  went 
to  America,  would  you  like  to  be  instructed  in  our 
customs?  You  would  say:  — 

“ ‘ I carry  my  own  with  me.’ 

“ And  so  I say  now.” 

The  Count  was  studying  in  the  same  atelier  with 
Hunt,  but  disliked  by  the  whole  class  as  a swell. 

In  Couture’s  school  were  young  men  who  did 
nothing  so  well  as  to  make  squibs  on  the  other 
pupils,  often  with  the  effect  of  keeping  the  class 
in  order.  If  any  one  was  disposed  to  interfere  with 
the  model,  his  remarks  would  be  caricatured  until 
he  would  be  glad  to  stop.  One  Parisian  bully 
seized  Hunt  and  gave  him  a severe  pound  in  the 
back.  Although  angry,  he  swallowed  his  wrath ; 
but  watching  his  opportunity,  took  the  fellow  up  by 
his  lap,  carried  him,  head  down,  to  the  next  room, 
and  soused  him  up  and  down  in  a tub  of  water. 


6o  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“ Ah,  ha  ! ” was  the  cry ; “ you  ’ll  let  the  American 
alone  now ! ” 

Hunt  worked  for  a while  in  Couture’s  own  studio, 
sharing  it  with  him.  While  painting  The  Prodigal 
Son  he  had  represented  the  youth  as  girt  about  with 
a goat-skin  which  he  painted  so  literally  that  he 
received  a reproof  from  his  master  in  this  wise : — 
Coming  into  the  atelier  one  morning,  Hunt  found  a 
huge  claw  painted  upon  the  skin  as  if  it  were  grasp- 
ing the  man’s  back,  — a hint  to  the  pupil  that  he 
had  represented  a goat,  rather  than  a skin.  Sing- 
ing and  whistling,  and  pretending  not  to  see  it,  he 
lost  no  time  in  erasing  his  work  and  putting  it  in 
more  simply. 

Hunt  and  his  friend  Newman  took  a tandem 
drive  out  from  Paris  into  the  country.  As  they  were 
stopping  at  an  inn,  an  English  lord  rode  up,  and  in- 
spected, with  much  interest,  the  American’s  splendid 
horses.  His  lordship  rode  badly,  and  used  his  arms 
in  an  awkward  manner.  In  a very  grand  way,  he  in- 
quired about  the  tandem,  and  said,  with  a patronizing 
air:  — 

“Adieu,  Messieurs  ! ” 

“ I don’t  know  about  that  being  an  adieu ! ” said 
Hunt,  as  he  cracked  up  his  horses,  and  passed  his 
lordship  in  a trice,  to  the  latter’s  surprise  and 
chagrin. 


The  Prodigal  Son. 

From  the  original  painting  owned  by  Miss  Jane  Hunt. 


ANECDOTES  OF  HIS  LIFE  ABROAD  6 1 


Hunt  especially  enjoyed  telling  this  anecdote : — 

A student  came  to  Couture,  and  studied  only  in 
the  afternoons.  After  two  weeks  had  elapsed,  Cou- 
ture asked  him  how  his  friends  liked  his  pictures. 

“ Not  as  well  as  they  did  before  I came  here,”  was 
the  reply. 

“ Well,”  said  Couture,  “ stay  two  weeks  longer, 
and  they  won’t  have  them  in  the  house.” 

In  1848-9  Hunt  spent  the  winter  in  Hyves,  for  the 
benefit  of  his  health.  While  there  an  elderly  man 
approached  him  and  said : — 

“ Sire,  you  so  much  resemble  a great  Frenchman 
whom  I knew  that  it  seems  as  if  he  must  have 
returned  to  earth.” 

“ That  is  indeed  strange  ! ” was  the  reply.  “ To 
whom  do  you  refer?” 

“ To  Gericault,”  was  the  reply. 

Diaz  told  Foxcroft  Cole  that  Hunt  was  “the  most 
brilliant  man  whom  he  had  ever  known.” 

At  the  time  of  his  visits  to  Barbison  he  kept  two 
horses,  Tom  and  Kate.  They  were  fine  animals,  and 
the  gay  young  artist  enjoyed  these  drives  from  Paris 
to  the  full.  Always  joyous,  he  came  to  Millet  for 
artistic  inspiration,  and  at  the  same  time  cheered 
and  encouraged  the  lonely  painter,  who  looked  for- 
ward to  these  flying  visits  as  oases  of  delight  in  the 
sometimes  dreary  desert  of  his  existence.  He  seemed 
to  grow  young  as  he  and  Hunt  talked  over  their  ex- 


62  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


periences,  laughing  heartily  at  many  a humorous  story 
which  the  visitor  had  stored  up  for  his  enjoyment. 

Hunt’s  first  room  in  Barbison  was  owned  by  Jean 
Gatelier,  a rabbit-seller,  whose  peculiar,  squeaking 
cry  was  imitated  to  perfection  by  his  fun-loving 
tenant,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  village  people  and 
even  of  Millet  himself.  Hunt  was  a general  favorite 
in  the  place.  The  people  appreciated  his  keen  wit, 
fine  mind,  sharp  observation,  and  his  entire  freedom 
from  pretension. 

When  Hunt  left  Couture’s  class  many  ill-natured 
remarks  were  made,  especially  in  regard  to  the 
peasant-painter.  An  American  pupil  complained 
that  Millet  was  so  monotonous  in  his  subjects  that 
when  about  to  paint  a tree,  he  first  contemplated  it, 
then  bought  it,  chopped  it  down,  cut  it  up,  sat  down 
upon  it,  dragged  it  home,  and,  after  mature  delibera- 
tion, painted  it.  Adding,  “ And  that ’s  the  man  that 
Hunt  is  going  to  study  with ! ” 

A young  critic  flippantly  remarked  that  Millet 
“ missed  it  ” in  painting  “ coarse  French  clodhop- 
pers,” and  neglecting  more  elevated  subjects. 

“ My  God ! man,”  cried  Hunt,  with  dilated  eyes, 
and  quivering  fist  raised  above  his  head  as  if  to  strike 
the  trembling  wretch : “ What  is  nobler  than  a man 
wresting  and  wringing  his  bread  from  the  stubborn 
soil  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  and  the  break  of  his 
back  for  his  wife  and  children ! ” 


ART  INSTRUCTION  AND  PAINTING  63 


CHAPTER  VII 

Ideas  of  Art  Instruction  and  of  Painting — French 

Artists 

TT  was  one  of  Hunt’s  favorite  axioms  that  “Artists 
are  the  best  teachers,  and  the  only  ones  who  are 
fit  to  instruct  in  art.” 

Such  was  his  intense  love  for  his  work  and  his 
profession  that  he  was  drawn  at  once  to  those  who 
were  trying  to  paint.  While  living  in  Newport,  be- 
fore settling  in  Boston,  he  unwittingly  drew  around 
him  several  young  painters  who  wished  to  study  with 
him.  Among  these  was  John  La  Farge,  who,  to  this 
day,  gives  Hunt  the  credit  for  an  early  artistic  train- 
ing of  the  most  valuable  description. 

In  1869  Hunt  was  asked,  by  the  trustees  of  Har- 
vard College,  to  recommend  to  them  a good  teacher 
of  drawing.  His  reply  was : — 

“I  can’t  do  it;  and  it’s  your  own  fault.  You 
spend  thousands  of  dollars  finding  out  how  many 
legs  a bug  has ; but  if  a poor  fellow  wants  to  learn 
art,  not  a bit  of  help  will  he  get  from  anybody.  He 
has  to  work  it  out  alone.  Can  you  get  good  teachers 
out  of  such?  ” 

Apropos  of  lectures  on  art,  he  said : — 


64  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“ A man  who  wishes  to  discover  anything  had 
better  stand  by  Christopher  Columbus  on  deck  at 
night  than  listen  to  a lecture  on  the  discovery  of  a 
new  world.  How  are  we  going  to  make  painters  by 
lecturing  to  them?  We  are  going  to  make  ques- 
tioners, doubters,  and  talkers.  We  are  going  to 
make  painters  by  painting  ourselves,  and  by  show- 
ing the  paintings  of  others.  By  working  frankly 
from  our  convictions,  we  are  going  to  make  them 
work  frankly  from  theirs.” 

In  February,  1878,  he  was  invited  to  exhibit,  in 
Chicago,  a complete  collection  of  his  works.  He 
was  pleased  with  the  invitation,  saying : — 

“ That  is  the  way  that  I should  prefer  to  exhibit, 
— all  my  pictures  together ; but  exhibitions  are  gen- 
erally not  encouraging  to  production;  and  I believe 
that  the  wholesome  habit  of  production  will,  in  the 
end,  do  more  for  a man  than  all  the  praise  or 
blame  which  may  be  elicited  from  the  public  or 
the  press.” 

He  regretted  that  painting  should  be  regarded  as 
an  accomplishment,  saying:  — 

“ Painting  is  the  only  universal  language.  All 
nature  is  creation’s  picture  book.  Painting  alone 
can  describe  every  thing  which  can  be  seen,  and  sug- 
gest every  emotion  which  can  be  felt.  Art  reaches 
back  into  the  babyhood  of  time,  and  is  man’s  only 
lasting  monument.” 

Of  execution  he  said : — 


ART  INSTRUCTION  AND  PAINTING  65 


“ People  seem  to  think  that  if  a painting  is  done 
with  a small  brush  it  is  carefully  done;  if  a large 
brush  is  used  it  is  carelessly  done.  I was  noticing 
some  students  copying  in  a gallery  this  morning. 
They  were  using  little  rat-tail  brushes,  and  were  pick, 
pick,  picking  away,  like  digging  up  a garden  with  a 
knitting-needle. 

“ As  they  went  on  with  their  pat ! pat ! they  looked 
like  a congregation  which  has  such  a musical-toned 
preacher  that  the  heads  go  wag,  wag ! Couture’s 
method  made  us  do  things  with  our  whole  souls. 
Looking  intently  at  what  we  were  to  do,  we  soon 
knew  exactly.  If  we  did  not  know  we  were  told  to 
go  and  do  something  else. 

“When  Couture  saw,  in  a really  good  study,  a 
place  that  had  been  retouched,  he  would  simply 
point  at  it  and  say  nothing. 

“ A thing  that  is  corrected  is  like  a whipped  dog. 
The  flowing  determination  that  is  in  your  mind  ex- 
presses yourself.  The  great  difficulty  is  that  people 
will  not  take  the  trouble  to  think.  They  pick,  pick, 
aimlessly,  and  call  it  conscientiousness;  but  in  fact 
it  is  nothing  at  all.  If  you  work  with  thought  and 
with  real  care,  you  will  take  the  simplest  means  of 
reaching  your  object,  — will  take  brushes  large  enough 
to  do  the  work.  That  is  what  makes  the  world  so 
mad.  You  do  in  two  minutes  what  they  think  should 
take  an  hour.” 

In  reply  to  a somewhat  captious  art-critic  who 

S 


66  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


charged  Hunt  with  holding  autocratic  sway  over 
Boston,  and  with  cramming  the  city  with  French  art, 
of  which  he  and  Thomas  Couture  were  the  prophets, 
Hunt  said : — 

“ I have  never  undertaken  to  teach  Couture’s 
method,  or  that  of  any  other  painter.  I have  en- 
deavored, as  all  my  pupils  will  say,  to  develop  in 
each  an  individual  manner.  I would  as  soon  think 
of  teaching  a method  of  writing  poetry.  The  words 
‘French  art,’  which  you  put  in  my  mouth,  I do  not 
remember  to  have  ever  used  in  my  class.  They 
convey  no  meaning  to  the  art-student  further  than 
being  a suggestion  of  a class  of  skilfully  painted 
pictures,  imported  into  New  York,  and  sold  to 
amateurs  and  dealers  all  over  the  country.  The 
term  is  used  here  by  what  are  called  ‘ dealers’ 
assistants,’  who  drum  up  purchasers,  and  pocket 
commissions. 

“ Among  modern  pictures  I admire  the  works  of 
Reynolds,  Gainsborough,  Hogarth,  Constable,  Turner, 
G^ricault,  Delacroix,  Ingres,  Flandrin,  Corot,  Millet, 
and  others.  I have  pointed  these  out  to  my  pupils 
as  admirable ; and  I shall  not  forget  that  G6ricault, 
one  of  the  greatest  of  modern  painters,  — and,  mind 
you,  not  a stickler  for  French  art,  — went  over  to 
England,  and  wrote  to  Delacroix  to  follow  him ; 
saying  that  the  English  had,  at  that  time,  the  best 
painters. 

“ The  idea  that  fine-art  was  ever  confined  to  a 


ART  INSTRUCTION  AND  PAINTING  67 


school,  or  a people,  is  too  idiotic  to  speak  of.  To  be 
accused  of  upholding  such  a sentiment  is  as  silly  as 
it  would  be  for  me  to  publish  that  you  believe  that 
art-criticism  can  only  be  written  with  a quill  of  the 
great,  bald-headed,  American  eagle.” 

That  he  was  in  sympathy  with  the  coming  lumi- 
naireistes  is  shown  by  the  following,  which  was  written 
in  an  album  in  1877 ; also  by  many  of  his  later  works, 
in  which  he  seemed  to  strive  for  “ Light ! more 
Light ! ” 

“ Go  east,  young  man ! Meeting,  greet  the  sun, 
our  master-painter ! 

“ Tell  him  that  we,  children  of  the  west,  born  in 
his  strength  when  he  embraced  the  empire  which 
completes  his  path  around  the  globe,  tell  him  we 
long  for  Light! 

“ Tell  him  that  the  light  which  he  gives  the  full- 
grown  past  is  far  too  strong  for  us.  Like  young 
cats  we  are  blinded  by  the  light,  and  still  we  pray 
for  light,  — more  light,  with  which  to  see. 

“Tell  him  his  light  is  strong,  and  warm,  and 
healthful.  Still,  we  are  weak,  and  cold,  and  sorry. 
Would  he  just  deal  out  such  pap  as  that  with  which 
he  fed  the  Venetians  and  the  Greeks?  Or,  even  the 
darkness  in  which  the  Egyptians  and  the  Children 
of  the  Sun  wrought  such  wonders?  Then  we  might 
do  better.  Our  souls,  not  our  eyes,  require  the 
light.  Strengthen  the  perceptions,  not  the  sight ! ” 


68  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


Of  his  helpfulness  to  artists  in  whom  he  believed, 
enough  could  hardly  be  said.  When  J.  Foxcroft 
Cole  returned  from  Europe,  Hunt  took  a lively 
interest  in  his  work,  buying  at  least  four  of  his 
pictures  in  one  year,  1863.  He  also  wrote  to  Elihu 
Vedder,  although  personally  unacquainted,  urging 
him  to  make  an  exhibition  of  his  paintings  in  Boston. 
Mr.  Vedder  did  so,  and  nearly  every  picture  was  sold. 
In  looking  over  the  list  of  purchasers  it  was  easy 
to  perceive  the  power  behind  the  throne.  When 
Thomas  Robinson,  the  animal  painter,  came  to 
Boston,  in  1865,  Hunt  proved  at  once  a sterling 
friend,  buying  one  of  his  pictures,  and  showing  it  at 
the  first  exhibition  of  the  Allston  Club. 

When  the  first  French  pictures  were  imported  here, 
they  aroused  a good  deal  of  animosity  on  the  part  of 
those  who  did  not  understand  their  import.  There 
was  a fine  collection  of  French  masters  on  exhibition 
at  the  Boston  Athenaeum  in  Beacon  Street,  works  by 
Millet,  Rousseau,  Troyon,  and  others.  The  teacher 
of  art  in  Harvard  University  was  especially  severe 
upon  them,  and  published  a letter  in  one  of  the 
newspapers  in  which  he  denounced  them  without 
measure.  His  words  naturally  aroused  Hunt’s  indig- 
nation, and  the  following  letter  was  the  result:  — 

To  the  Editors  of  the  Boston  Daily  Advertiser  : 

The  standard  of  art  education  is  indeed  carried  to  a 
dizzy  height  in  Harvard  University,  when  such  men  as 
Jean  Francois  Millet  are  ranked  as  triflers. 


FRENCH  ARTISTS 


69 


A public  exhibition  of  the  art  work  of  the  gentlemen 
educated  in  this  advanced  school  (if  the  fruit  answers  the 
expectations  of  the  tree)  would  make  the  university  notion 
of  art  more  clear  to  the  world,  and  be  of  service  to  those 
of  us  whose  early  advantages  in  art  study  were  necessarily 
limited  by  the  incapacity  of  such  teachers  as  Millet  and 
other  well-known  names  of  his  nationality,  — a nationality 
which  has  always  held  high  rank  in  art,  but  which,  like 
the  red  man,  must  disappear  before  the  strides  of  our 
mighty  western  chromo-civilization. 

The  soil  and  schools  of  France  within  thirty  years  have 
shown  the  world  the  honored  works  of  G£ricault,  Delacroix, 
Ingres,  Rosseau,  Troyon,  Decamps,  Meissonier,  Regnault, 
Michel  and  G£rome,  Corot,  Courbet,  Couture,  Millet  and 
Diaz,  Jules  Dupr£,  Baudry,  Daubigny,  and  a hundred 
others  whose  earnest  work  the  world  never  can  forget, 
— while  those  who  profess  to  teach  art  in  our  university, 
with  the  whisk  of  a quill  undertake  to  sweep  it  all  into 
oblivion.  The  unpardonable  conceit  of  such  stuff  makes 
one’s  blood  tingle  for  shame. 

Who  of  us  can  volunteer  to  carry  art  to  France?  Which 
one  among  the  painters  named  above  was  not  more 
familiar  with  Veronese’s  best  work  than  are  our  children 
with  the  Catechism  ? They  were  not  only  familiar  with  all 
that  is  evident \ but  devoted  students  of  the  qualities  in 
Veronese  of  which  few  besides  them  know  anything  ! 

It  is  not  worth  while  to  be  alarmed  about  the  influence 
of  French  art.  It  would  hardly  be  mortifying  if  a Millet 
or  a Delacroix  should  be  developed  in  Boston. 

It  is  not  our  fault  that  we  inherit  ignorance  in  art ; 
but  we  are  not  obliged  to  advertise  it. 


William  M.  Hunt. 


70  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


In  1875  an  exhibition  of  the  works  of  Barye  was 
given  in  Paris.  No  man  had  a better  understanding 
of  the  worth  of  this  great  sculptor  than  had  Mr. 
Hunt.  The  literary  critics,  who  wrote  home  about 
it  to  the  American  papers,  had  not  the  least  com- 
prehension of  its  real  worth.  Their  remarks  excited 
Hunt’s  anger  beyond  control;  and  upon  one  oc- 
casion he  ran  out  at  night  upon  the  Common  with 
a friend,  and  walked  around  it  several  times  trying 
to  recover  from  his  resentment.  In  the  words  of 
his  companion : — 

“ He  talked  like  a race-horse  all  the  time,  of  the 
idiocy  of  art-writers.” 


LIKENESS  OF  MEN  OF  GENIUS 


7i 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Likeness  of  Men  of  Genius  — - Illustrations  of  Tenny- 
son— Manner  of  Work  — Loss  of  Hunt’s  Studio  by 
Fire  — Loss  of  Portraits  and  other  Pictures,  in- 
cluding all  the  Studies  for  “ Anahita” 

TT  is  Schopenhauer's  theory  that  men  of  genius 
-*•  throughout  the  world  possess  a certain  family 
likeness.  Mr.  Hunt  bore  a striking  resemblance 
when  young  to  Gericault;  and  later  to  Titian  and 
to  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  With  his  long,  gray  beard, 
velvet  coat,  bright  necktie,  and  velvet  cap,  he  seemed 
a re-incarnation  of  Titian,  while  the  portraits  of  Leo- 
nardo were  strongly  recalled  by  the  keen,  penetrating, 
clear  blue  eye  which  seemed  to  look  through  and 
through  what  it  saw,  and  to  have  the  power  of  instan- 
taneous comprehension.  This  quick,  virile  compre- 
hension, as  well  as  perception,  was  a characteristic  of 
his  speech  as  well  as  of  his  art.  He  was  thus 
described  by  his  friend  Brigham : — 

“ Mr.  Hunt  is  about  five  feet  ten  inches  in  height,  of 
slender  but  sinewy  frame,  with  a finely-formed,  compact 
head,  whereon  the  hair  is  now  sparse  and  gray.  His  nose 
is  aquiline,  a fine  and  prominent  feature  of  his  face,  and 
his  keen  gray  eyes,  when  not  intent  upon  his  work,  or 


72  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


held  in  check  by  a sober  conversation  or  serious  mood, 
are  generally  suffused  with  a humorous  gleam  or  enlivened 
by  a downright  twinkle  of  merriment ; for  Mr.  Hunt 
possesses  one  of  the  sunniest  and  most  joyous  natures 
imaginable,  with  buoyancy  sufficient  to  keep  himself  in 
perpetual  good  humor  and  impart  a like  cheerfulness  to 
all  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact.  His  full  flowing 
beard  is  patriarchal  in  its  silvery  whiteness,  its  luxuriance 
and  length,  while  his  clear  bronzed  skin  betrays  his  active 
habits  and  his  out-door  life  during  the  summer  and 
autumn. 

“ Of  Mr.  Hunt,  likewise,  one  might  truly  say  as  Thomas 
Bailey  Aldrich  said  of  a portrait  of  Bryant : ‘ If  a head 
like  this,  in  bronze  or  marble,  were  found  in  some  Greek 
or  Roman  ruin,  it  would  be  worth  its  weight  in  gold/ 
He  still  preserves  in  his  dress  some  of  the  eccentricities 
which  distinguished  his  student  days,  for  a favorite  garment 
in  rough  weather  is  a red-lined  short  coat  made  from  a 
brownish-colored  leather  obtained  from  some  marine  ani- 
mal, and  brought,  I believe,  from  Finland.  He  is  an 
inimitable  raconteur , and  tells  an  anecdote,  or  describes 
a personage,  a place  or  a scene,  with  much  of  the  histrionic 
power  that  belonged  to  Dickens,  and  with  a vivacity  and 
gusto  that  is  Gallic  rather  than  Saxon.  His  likes  and 
dislikes  are  naturally  strong,  and  readily  aroused,  but 
they  are  tempered  by  his  judgment,  so  that  few  men  own 
more  devoted  friends  or  avoid  fewer  enemies.” 

Hunt  received  at  one  time  an  order  from  a pub- 
lisher to  furnish  illustrations  for  an  edition  of  Tenny- 
son’s poems.  The  idea  pleased  him  at  first,  and  he 
painted  Elaine , With  Her  Shield;  a graceful  figure, 


William  Morris  Hunt. 

From  a charcoal  sketch  by  himself. 


/ 


ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  TENNYSON 


73 


full  of  that  pathos  which  no  other  artist  has  so  fully 
expressed.  He  was  intent  upon  the  work,  and  giving 
to  it  his  best  thought  and  consideration.  In  an  evil 
moment  the  publisher  sent  him  word  that  the  draw- 
ings must  be  completed  before  a certain  date;  and 
the  artist’s  interest  in  the  work  at  once  flagged.  He 
could  not,  to  use  Rufus  Choate’s  expressive  phrase, 
be  expected  to  “ dilate  with  the  right  emotion  ” at 
the  rate  of  so  many  dollars  for  a limited  number  of 
days,  or  weeks.  The  work  was  at  once  given  up. 

He  could  not  endure  dictation  from  another.  He 
knew  his  power,  and  he  knew  also  his  limitations. 
He  would  not  have  thought  of  himself  as  a man  of 
genius ; but  he  felt  instinctively  all  that  genius  knows 
of  suffering  or  of  joy.  He  trained  himself  to  steady, 
ceaseless  work;  never  meaning  to  rely  upon  those 
sudden  flashes  of  inspiration  in  which  the  brush  seems 
to  go  of  its  own  accord,  obeying  the  lightning 
thought  of  the  painter  with  execution  almost  as  swift, 
and  wholly  unconscious  of  mental  direction. 

And  yet,  when  these  lightning  flashes  came,  no 
man  could  have  had  more  reverence  for  the  experi- 
ence and  for  the  results.  Patrons  and  critics  might 
object  as  they  would,  a canvas  which  had  been 
painted  wholly  or  in  part  at  such  moments  was  laid 
aside  as  a precious  possession.  Another  picture  of 
the  subject  might  be  undertaken,  but  the  first  would 
receive  no  tampering.  It  would  be  a pleasant  task 
to  go  through  an  exhibition  of  his  work  and  note  the 


74  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


varying  moods  in  which  different  pictures  were 
painted,  — the  masterly  certainty  of  some,  the  vigor 
and  force  of  others ; the  delicate  and  loving  tender- 
ness shown  in  many,  the  tempest  and  the  fire  in 
others.  One  canvas  would  evince  the  most  intense 
sympathy  with  the  subject;  another,  if  a portrait, 
would  almost  bear  witness  to  the  force  of  will  and  the 
power  of  steady  and  determined  work  with  which  the 
artist  had  made  up  his  mind  that  it  should  be  rightly 
completed,  let  it  cost  what  it  would. 

After  long  continued  periods  of  what  he  called 
ceaseless  “ digging  ” on  portraits,  a street-waif  perhaps 
would  appear;  and  in  two  or  three  hours  Hunt  would 
produce  a rapid  and  masterly  sketch,  in  which  he  found 
both  rest  and  enjoyment.  He  seemed  at  times  to 
almost  live  at  his  easel.  Early  and  late,  as  long  as 
the  power  lasted,  he  would  work  unceasingly.  When 
he  broke  off  from  his  work  it  was  in  self-preserva- 
tion; thrumming  a guitar;  trying  his  violin,  once 
owned  by  Balzac,  — from  which  came  sometimes 
music  of  unearthly  mystery  and  sweetness ; or  telling 
a story,  and  acting  it  out  as  he  talked,  — with  his  in- 
imitable mimicry  and  rare  sense  of  dramatic  action. 
Many  of  his  sitters  had  amusing  accounts  to  give  of 
the  way  in  which  they  had  been  entertained  while 
posing. 

Sometimes  he  would  seem  to  get  on  the  better 
with  his  work  for  having  some  material  hindrance  to 
overcome.  If  a table  or  chair  stood  in  the  way,  he 


LOSS  OF  HUNT’S  STUDIO  BY  FIRE 


75 


seemed  to  take  delight,  not  in  moving  it,  but  in  going 
around  it.  One  of  his  portrait-sitters  says  that  an 
umbrella  chanced  to  fall  in  such  a way  as  to  make  a 
barrier  between  a table  and  a chair.  Instead  of 
moving  the  umbrella,  the  artist,  walking  backward 
and  forward  to  view  his  work,  carefully  stepped  over 
it,  as  if  the  little  hindrance  were  in  some  way  a 
help. 

In  November,  1872,  occurred  “the  great  Boston 
fire,”  as  it  will  always  be  called,  and  in  that  fire  count- 
less works  of  art  were  destroyed.  In  the  upper 
rooms  of  the  stone  and  iron  warehouses  were  stored 
many  a private  gallery,  the  owner  of  which  had  gone 
to  Europe  for  a term  of  years.  Several  families  lost 
all  their  old-time  portraits,  — the  work  of  Copley  or 
of  Stuart,  not  to  mention  lesser  celebrities.  As  the 
fire  swept  through  Summer  Street  it  embraced  the 
old  Mercantile  Building,  and  all  of  Hunt’s  treasures 
were  consumed.  The  loss  to  him  was  incalculable. 
One  large  closet,  well  filled  with  choice  souvenirs  of 
European  art,  probably  never  saw  the  foot  of  a 
visitor.  Occasionally  some  choice  canvas  would  be 
brought  out  and  exhibited  with  positive  affection  and 
tenderness.  “ Nest  eggs  for  the  children,”  he  called 
these  pictures.  There  were  choice  paintings  by 
Millet  and  Diaz,  and  some  of  his  own  early  successes 
which  he  seemed  shy  of  exhibiting  except  to  the 
most  appreciative. 

Among  the  Millet  pictures  were  five  or  six  that 


76  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


still  remained  in  their  old  French  frames,  and  of  these 
two  or  more  were  of  the  master’s  earlier  period,  — 
one  a nymph  lying  upon  the  brown  autumnal  grass, 
the  pearly,  rosy  flesh  color  enhanced  by  a bit  of 
drapery  of  the  tint  of  blue  which  Millet  loved  to  paint 
on  his  peasants  as  well  as  his  nude  figures.  A fine 
study  of  a Cow  was  often  brought  out,  and  occa- 
sionally some  animal-painter  was  allowed  to  make  a 
copy  of  it. 

The  loss  of  Hunt’s  own  work  was  very  great. 
One  wall  of  the  studio  was  lined  with  cartoons  of 
life-size,  full-length  portraits,  which  in  their  dusky 
corner  seemed  like  studies  made  by  Velasquez, 
Raphael,  or  Titian.  Hunt  had  regarded  his  sitters 
as  the  great  masters  had  regarded  theirs.  Several 
finished  portraits  stood  on  different  easels,  ready  to 
be  sent  to  their  owners.  One  lady,  more  fortunate 
than  others,  had  called  at  the  studio  the  day  before, 
and  asked  leave  to  carry  home,  in  her  carriage,  the 
scarcely  finished  portrait  of  her  husband.  Her  zeal 
won  the  day,  and  the  portrait  thus  escaped  the 
flames.  Three  or  four  which  were  burned  had  to 
be  again  painted  by  the  artist,  — a severe  loss  of  time 
and  money.  One  exquisite  portrait,  ordered  by 
Mrs.  Claflin,  had  been  a work  of  untiring  devotion. 
This  lady  had  lost  her  young  daughter,  and  pos- 
sessed but  a single  tin-type,  — of  the  head  simply. 
She  had  come  to  Hunt  with  such  earnestness  and 
simplicity,  begging  him  to  try  to  paint  it,  that, 


PORTRAITS  AND  PICTURES  BURNED  77 


touched  by  her  mother’s  love,  and  her  confidence 
in  his  work,  he  resolved  to  succeed  at  any  cost  to 
himself.  Like  all  good  artists  he  disliked  to  paint 
from  a photograph;  yet  such  was  his  intuition  that 
his  work  of  this  kind  seemed  as  if  done  from  mem- 
ory, if  not  from  actual  life.  It  wore  upon  his  vitality, 
but  he  spared  not  himself  in  the  least.  He  depicted 
the  young  girl  dressed  in  white  muslin,  and  standing 
thoughtfully  in  an  out-door  atmosphere,  with  a sug- 
gestion of  white  birches  in  the  background.  To  get 
the  idea  needed  he  posed  one  of  his  own  daughters 
for  a few  moments  on  the  driveway  at  his  Milton 
home,  and  took  rapid  mental  notes  of  the  way  the 
child  looked  against  the  sky,  distance,  and  middle- 
ground.  That  idea  was  kept  throughout  the  picture 
of  Miss  Claflin.  For  the  gown  and  for  general  effect, 
her  young  cousin  posed  in  the  studio ; and  after 
weeks  of  careful,  loving  work,  the  picture  was  com- 
pleted, — only  to  be  destroyed  in  the  Summer  Street 
fire.  It  is  said  to  have  been  thrown  from  a window 
of  the  studio,  and  trampled  under  foot  in  the  excited 
crowd.  Fortunately,  Hunt  had  begun  the  picture  in 
his  usual  way,  by  making,  on  a white  canvas,  a char- 
coal drawing  of  the  subject  as  he  wished  it  to  look 
in  the  painting.  The  sketch  had  been  sent  to  Mrs. 
Claflin  for  a few  days,  and  was  thus  saved  from  the 
flames.  So  great  was  her  sympathy  for  the  artist 
in  his  loss  that  she  said : — 

“ Mr.  Hunt,  if  you  wish  me  to  be  satisfied  with  the 


78  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


charcoal  sketch,  I will  not  ask  you  to  paint  another 
picture.” 

Hunt  replied,  “ I do  not  wish  you  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  charcoal.  I will  repeat  my  work  as  soon 
as  possible.” 

When  the  picture  was  completed,  the  family  pro- 
nounced it  to  be  quite  as  satisfactory  as  the  first. 
When  Hunt  parted  with  it,  tears  came  into  his  eyes, 
and  he  said  : — 

“ It  is  too  much  to  believe.  I did  not  expect  them 
to  be  satisfied.  It  is  hard  to  part  with  that  picture. 
I have  given  a good  deal  of  heart-work  to  it.” 

When  asked  how  he  could  have  succeeded  in  giv- 
ing the  right  form  and  pose  to  a person  whom  he 
had  never  seen,  he  replied : — 

“ I tried  many  forms,  and  when  I hit  upon  this  I 
said : ‘ I have  found  it ! I have  found  it ! This  is 
just  the  form  for  that  spirit.’  ” 

Similar  anecdotes  might  be  related  of  the  re-paint- 
ing of  other  portraits  which  had  been  destroyed  in 
the  fire;  but  the  greatest  interest  attaches  to  the 
almost  total  extinction  of  every  trace  of  the  great 
work  of  Hunt’s  life,  — the  Anahita. 

In  1846  his  brother  Leavitt  had  sent  him  a trans- 
lation of  a Persian  poem,  Anahita,  Anaea,  or  Anaitis, 
the  nature-goddess  whom  the  Persians  borrowed 
from  the  Babylonians,  and  whom  the  Greeks  iden- 
tified with  Aphrodite,  Artemis,  and  Hera. 

The  following  is  the  translation : — 


Anahit  a ; Study  of  Head. 


STUDIES  FOR  “ANAHITA”  DESTROYED  79 


ANAHITA. 

“ Enthroned  upon  her  car  of  light,  the  moon 
Is  circling  down  the  lofty  heights  of  Heaven. 

Her  well-trained  coursers  wedge  the  blindest  depths 
With  fearful  plunge,  yet  heed  the  steady  hand 
That  guides  their  lonely  way.  So  swift  her  course, 

So  bright  her  smile,  she  seems  on  silver  wings, 

O’er  reaching  space,  to  glide  the  airy  main ; 

Behind,  far-flowing,  spreads  her  deep  blue  veil 
Inwrought  with  stars  that  shimmer  in  its  wave. 

Before  the  car  an  owl,  gloom-sighted,  flaps 
His  weary  way;  with  melancholy  hoot 
Dispelling  spectral  shades  that  flee 
With  bat-like  rush,  affrighted  back, 

Within  the  blackest  nooks  of  caverned  Night. 

Still  hours  of  darkness  wend  around  the  car, 

By  raven-tresses  half  concealed ; but  one, 

With  fairer  locks,  seems  lingering  back  for  Day. 

Yet  all,  with  even-measured  footsteps,  mark 
Her  onward  course,  and  floating  in  her  train 
Repose  lies  nestled  on  the  breast  of  Sleep, 

While  soft  Desires  enchain  the  waists  of  Dreams, 

And  light-winged  Fancies  flit  around  in  troops.” 

The  subject  at  once  took  possession  of  Hunt’s 
mind  and  continued  with  him  nearly  through  life, — 
until  he  had  opportunity  to  give  it  fit  expression. 
Numberless  studies  and  sketches  were  made  in  all 
these  years,  and  the  theme  was  never  long  absent 
from  his  mind.  A general  idea  of  the  composition 
was  settled  upon  at  first,  and  many  sketches  from 
life  and  from  memory  were  made  as  opportunity 
occurred.  The  goddess  was  represented  seated 


8o  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


upon  a rolling  cloud,  nude  to  the  waist,  with  her 
right  arm  extended  in  an  attitude  of  power  and  pro- 
pelling force.  With  restless  energy  and  a heroic 
mien,  she  drove  three  horses  abreast.  In  color  they 
were  black,  bay,  and  white,  and  their  action  was 
varied  and  superb.  The  lines  of  the  picture  were 
diagonal,  from  the  upper  right  hand  corner  to  the 
lower  left.  The  goddess  came  near  to  the  top  of  the 
picture.  Her  lines  of  movement  were  finely  heroic, 
and  she  seemed  more  than  equal  to  the  task  of  guid- 
ing her  magnificent  steeds,  and  without  the  tram- 
melling details  of  reins,  harness,  or  wheels.  Of  the 
three  horses  the  middle  one  was  black.  Tossing  his 
proud  head  backward,  and  rearing  high  upon  his 
hind  feet,  he  made  a splendid  foil  for  the  beautiful 
white  horse  in  the  foreground  which  seemed  to  fly, 
as  if  his  uplifted  mane  and  tail  were  wings.  The 
bay  horse,  more  remote,  yet  still  abreast  with  the 
others,  was  held  in  check  by  a swarthy  male  attend- 
ant who  carried  an  inverted  torch,  symbolizing  the 
force  of  mediaeval  resistance  to  the  dawn  of  enlight- 
enment. At  the  left  of  the  goddess,  and  nearer  the 
left  hand  foreground  of  the  picture,  was  a sleeping 
mother  and  child,  lying  in  a cradle-like  cloud,  its 
fleecy  canopy  screening  their  slumbers,  and  held  by 
a cherub  who  filled  his  little  part  in  the  grand,  sweep- 
ing movement  of  the  whole. 

Many  a large  study  was  begun  with  reference  to 
the  final  painting  of  the  great  picture.  Just  before 


HUNT  A PRACTICAL  WORKER 


81 


the  fire,  Hunt  had  sent  to  Russia  for  canvas,  and  had 
planned  for  a painting  that  was  to  be  fifty  feet  in 
length.  The  talented  young  artist,  John  B.  Johnston, 
was  engaged  to  underpaint  the  canvas,  and  assist  in 
putting  the  design  upon  its  new  and  large  propor- 
tions. When  the  great  picture  was  well  advanced 
towards  completion,  the  fire  came ; and  not  a trace 
of  the  Anahita  was  in  existence,  with  exception  of  a 
small  photograph  of  the  composition  which  Hunt 
had  once  given  to  the  architect  Rinn.  From  this  all 
subsequent  paintings  of  the  composition  were  chiefly 
made. 

While  studying  the  three  horses,  Hunt  had  modelled 
them  with  great  success,  and  as  the  mould  was  left  at 
a plaster-worker’s  shop,  it  was  possible  to  obtain 
copies  from  which  to  work.  While  at  his  sister’s 
house  in  Newport  for  a few  days,  he  had  painted,  on 
a Japanese  tray,  his  conception  of  the  group,  mother 
and  child,  sleeping  in  the  cloud-cradle.  From  these 
studies  he  continued  his  work  so  cruelly  interrupted 
by  the  fire. 

After  losing  his  fine  large  studio  in  Summer  Street, 
he  occupied  two  or  three  different  studios,  none  of 
which  were  at  all  suitable  for  his  work.  In  1877  he 
rebuilt  the  upper  stories  of  a house  on  the  south 
corner  of  Park  Square  and  Boylston  Street,  and  made 
from  it  one  of  the  best  equipped  studios  in  the 
country. 

His  painting-room  was  always  that  of  a practical 

6 


82  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


worker.  He  wanted  simply  a large,  airy  studio,  with 
good  light,  and  abundant  wall  space.  He  was  not  in 
the  least  dependent  upon  draperies,  antique  leather, 
bric-a-brac , armor,  or  any  of  the  usual  furnishings  of 
a painter’s  studio.  When  about  to  paint  a portrait 
he  would  take  from  his  folio  a photograph  from 
Velasquez  or  Rembrandt,  to  keep  himself  keyed  up 
to  the  highest  in  art;  or  he  would  hang  up  a Japa- 
nese decoration  for  its  lines  and  its  flatness  of  planes. 
Sometimes  he  would  throw  over  a chair  a yard  or 
two  of  richly  colored  drapery.  Such  simple  furnish- 
ings gave  all  the  artistic  atmosphere  required  to  en- 
kindle his  fertile  and  brilliant  imagination. 


HUNT’S  CLASS  IN  BOSTON 


83 


CHAPTER  IX 

Hunt’s  Class  in  Boston  — Visit  of  Mr.  Dickinson  of 
London  — The  “ Talks  on  Art  ” — Letters  from 
George  H.  Boughton  and  Robert  Browning  — Criti- 
cisms on  Hunt  — Favorite  Authors  — Anecdotes 

"1  X 7HILE  at  work  upon  portraits  and  other  figure- 
* * subjects,  Hunt  had  little  idea  that  the  time 
would  come  when  he  would  summon  to  his  studio  a 
large  class  of  women  students.  His  pupil  and  friend, 
Thomas  Johnston,  occupied  two  rooms  in  the  same 
building  with  Hunt.  In  one  he  had  a class  of  ladies 
which  proved  to  be  the  nucleus  of  Hunt’s  class. 
Passing  by  their  door  one  day  Hunt  remarked  to  a. 
friend  who  was  with  him : — 

“ There ’s  a lot  of  women  in  there,  worrying  them- 
selves because  they  can’t  do  what  they  can’t.” 

The  story  of  Hunt’s  class  is  simply  this : — 
Scarcely  had  he  become  well  established  in  Boston; 
before  he  was  earnestly  besought  to  take  a class  of 
six  or  eight  ladies  who  had  pursued  the  study  of  art 
chiefly  in  Europe. 

“ Six  or  eight ! ” exclaimed  Hunt.  “ If  I teach  at 
all  I shall  teach  forty.” 

And  the  number  forty  was  at  once  obtained.  For 
three  years  he  gave  up  one  or  another  of  his  studios 


84  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 

in  the  Mercantile  Building,  and  only  too  much  of  his 
time  and  strength.  He  was  never  half-hearted. 
Whatever  he  did  was  done  with  intense  earnestness. 
It  was,  for  the  time,  the  one  thing  worth  doing.  In 
his  generous  enthusiasm  he  gave  to  the  class  his 
large  and  favorite  studio,  taking,  for  himself,  one  that 
was  darker  and  less  attractive.  The  class  proved  an 
inspiration  and  a success.  Charcoal  was  the  medium 
used,  and  all  were  delighted  with  its  easy  and  speedy 
results.  Under  Hunt’s  enthusiastic  encouragement, 
drawing  seemed,  for  the  first  week  or  two,  a matter 
of  possibility  and  delight.  The  class  was  taught  that 
“ values  ” were  the  all  in  all ; that  everything  existed 
by  its  relative  value  of  light  and  shade.  There  were 
some  doubters  to  be  reasoned  with. 

“ Did  not  the  old  masters  draw  largely  in  outline, 
and  with  a point?  Whence  came  these  novel  ideas 
of  light  and  shade?” 

Probably  in  no  other  city  in  the  world  was  such 
advanced,  modern  instruction  then  to  be  obtained. 
Hunt  had  come  from  the  best  continental  schools  and 
studios.  He  knew  all  the  first  artists  of  France,  Ger- 
many, England,  and  Italy;  had  absorbed  the  new 
ideas  and  methods  of  the  day,  and  was  eager  to  lay 
them  before  his  pupils,  asking  only  that  they  should 
believe  that  he  knew  what  was  best  for  them.  Even 
after  the  first  enthusiasm  had  abated,  the  pupils  real- 
ized that  their  master’s  instructions  were  of  the  utmost 
versatility  and  worth.  Wherever  they  were  capable 


HUNT’S  CLASS  IN  BOSTON 


*5 


of  going,  he  could  easily  lead  them.  Models  were 
introduced,  and  portraits  and  figure-studies  were  on 
nearly  every  easel.  Perfect  freedom  of  drawing  and 
expression  was  encouraged,  and  soon  the  paint-brush 
succeeded  the  charcoal-stick.  Here  new  difficulties 
arose,  only  to  be  successfully  met  by  the  master. 
No  pupil  knew  such  a word  as  fail.  She  was  taught 
to  have  faith  in  her  instructor,  and  in  herself. 

When  perfect  freedom  had  been  attained,  Hunt 
began  to  inculcate  lessons  of  exactness  and  precision. 
Photographs  from  Albert  Diirer,  Mantegna,  and 
Holbein  were  placed  before  the  pupils,  and  they 
were  told  to  trace  them  carefully,  copy  them  exactly, 
and  draw  them  from  memory,  making  them  a part 
of  themselves.  In  this  way  he  endeavored  to  make 
good,  as  far  as  possible,  the  lack  of  fine  art  in  our 
country;  to  show  how  art  is  cumulative,  every  painter 
owing  something  to  those  who  have  worked  before  him. 

The  virtue  of  humility  was  continually  inculcated. 
All  art-work  should  be  a work  of  love.  Such  was 
his  quickness  of  perception  that  he  knew  the  mood 
in  which  every  drawing  was  produced.  He  hated 
smartness,  conceit,  and  any  assumption  of  superiority, 
and  would  often  turn  from  a clever  and  skilful  draw- 
ing to  praise  the  sketch  of  some  modest  worker  who 
was  simply  trying  to  render  what  she  saw,  no  matter 
how  unsuccessful  the  attempt. 

One  morning  Hunt  entered  the  class  in  hot  haste, 
saying : — 


86  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“ Lay  aside  your  work,  all  of  you,  and  make  me 
a drawing  from  memory.” 

Every  pupil  looked  aghast.  “ Impossible ! ” was 
written  on  every  face. 

“ I give  you  ten  minutes  by  the  watch  in  which 
to  draw  something  which  you  have  seen  this  morn- 
ing, at  your  homes,  or  on  your  way  down  to  the 
studio.” 

There  was  no  appeal  from  this  order.  No  one  was 
excused,  and  in  ten  minutes  every  pupil  had  drawn 
some  reminiscence  of  the  early  morning.  One  had 
represented  a breakfast-table,  one  a hackney-coach, 
one  the  roofs  and  chimneys  from  her  Beacon  Hill 
window,  and  each  pupil  had  produced  a sketch 
which  was  individual  and  original. 

The  order  was  subsequently  given : “ A memory- 
sketch  every  day ! ” Hunt  afterwards  said  that  it  was 
so  difficult  to  enforce  this  regulation  that  he  thought 
he  should  have  to  call  in  the  Cadets.  In  time, 
however,  each  pupil  was  glad  to  make  her  daily 
contribution  to  the  wall-space  which  was  allotted  to 
memory-sketches,  and  the  collection  was  one  of 
which  Hunt  confessed  that  he  was  proud.  He  con- 
sidered it  the  most  successful  evidence  of  the  good 
results  of  his  method  of  teaching. 

The  class  went  on  for  three  years.  In  that  time 
Hunt  found  that  his  own  work  was  suffering,  portrait- 
orders  being  postponed  to  the  summer  season,  and 
giving  him  no  opportunity  for  needful  rest  or  change 


VISIT  OF  MR.  DICKINSON  OF  LONDON  87 


of  work.  He  proposed  to  one  of  his  pupils  to  take 
the  class-room,  and  see  how  many  would  return  under 
the  new  management.  He  said  : — 

“ I will  come  in  every  day  or  two  and  correct,  but 
will  have  none  of  the  responsibility  of  the  class.” 
After  much  persuasion,  the  pupil,  herself  a teacher, 
accepted  the  charge,  and  the  class  went  on  success- 
fully for  several  years,  Hunt  continuing  his  interest 
in  the  students,  especially  in  those  who  showed  most 
ability,  or  who  seemed  most  seriously  in  earnest. 

At  this  time  the  work  of  compiling  the  well- 
known  series  of  Hunt’s  “Talks  on  Art”  was  begun. 
The  teacher  felt  that  her  instructions  would  carry 
more  weight  if  quoted  from  the  words  of  the  master 
himself;  so  pencil  and  note-book  were  always  at 
hand,  and  in  his  short,  inspiring  visits  to  the  class, 
she  would  step  behind  a screen,  and  rapidly  write 
down  all  that  could  be  obtained  of  his  words  without 
knowledge  of  short-hand.  Done  solely  for  her  own 
use  in  teaching,  she  had  no  intention  of  making  the 
notes  public  until  Hunt’s  visit  to  Mexico,  when  she 
found  that  the  class  seriously  missed  the  magnetism 
of  his  presence,  and  so  brought  forward  the  manu- 
script notes  of  his  instructions. 

Their  publication  was  brought  about  in  this 
wise : — 

Mr.  Lowes  Dickinson,  a portrait-painter  of  Lon- 
don, was  visiting  the  Boston  publisher,  Mr.  James  T. 
Fields.  While  at  breakfast,  he  noticed,  upon  the 


88  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


wall  of  the  room,  a photograph  copy  of  the  portrait 
of  Chief  Justice  Shaw. 

“Who  did  that?  ” was  his  instant  inquiry. 

“ Oh  ! that  is  by  our  artist,  William  Hunt.  You 
do  not  know  him?  I must  take  you  at  once  to  see 
him.” 

“ I did  not  intend  to  meet  any  artists,  or  to  visit 
any  studios,  but  I must  see  the  man  who  can  make 
a portrait  like  that.  It ’s  a modern  Velasquez ! ” 

Arrived  at  the  studios,  Mr.  Fields  tapped  upon  the 
class-room  door,  asking  the  teacher  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Hunt  when  he  should  arrive,  and  to  present  the  dis- 
tinguished stranger. 

Casting  about  for  some  way  of  entertaining  the 
visitor,  the  teacher  showed  him  her  manuscript  notes 
of  the  Hunt  “Talks,”  with  which  he  was  thoroughly 
delighted. 

“ Have  it  published  at  once,  just  as  it  is;  and  send 
me  a dozen  copies.” 

To  Mr.  Dickinson,  more  than  to  any  one  else,  is 
due  the  publication  of  the  “Talks.”  Hunt  disliked^ 
the  idea  of  their  being  printed.  He  felt  that  they 
might  not  be  understood  by  the  public,  and  that 
parts  of  the  book  would  arouse  enmity,  especially 
in  the  minds  of  literary  people.  His  objections 
were  finally  overcome  by  the  London  artist,  and 
by  several  American  friends  who  were  in  the  habit 
of  meeting  at  Levi  Thaxter’s  house,  in  Newtonville, 
where  the  “Talks”  were  discussed  far  into  the  night. 


Chief  Justice  Lemuel  Shaw. 

From  the  original  painting  in  the  Court  House,  Salem. 


“TALKS  ON  ART” 


89 


Mr.  Thaxter  afterwards  declared  that  it  was  difficult 
to  restrain  Hunt  from  destroying  half  of  the  manu- 
script. He  had  talked  freely  with  his  pupils,  showing 
them  how  rare  is  the  art-instinct  in  a community  like 
ours.  It  was  another  matter  to  publish  to  the  world 
the  personalities  involved  in  such  a conversation; 
yet,  by  a course  of  vigorous  pruning,  the  manuscript 
was  finally  approved  by  Hunt.  A second  series, 
partially  revised  by  him,  appeared  in  1883,  four  years 
after  his  death. 

These  books  are  all  that  is  left,  in  words,  of  his 
trenchant  and  salient  teaching.  They  are  a mine  of 
wealth  to  the  art-student,  and  are  better  known  in 
European  studios  than  in  those  of  our  own  country. 
Wherever  there  are  English-speaking  artists,  the 
American  edition  of  the  “ Talks  on  Art  ” is  found 
hung  upon  the  wall,  and  it  is  constantly  referred  to 
for  inspiration  and  help. 

The  value  in  which  it  is  held  in  this  country  is 
shown  by  the  following  incident,  related  by  a young 
artist  in  Boston. 

“ I had  a copy  of  the  ‘ Talks/  and  a lot  of  us  fellows 
used  to  meet  in  my  room  and  read  from  its  pages.  They 
had  tried  to  buy  the  book,  but  were  everywhere  told  that  it 
was  no  longer  in  print.  One  of  our  number,  who  came 
from  British  Guiana,  wished  so  much  to  own  it  that  he 
actually  copied  every  word  of  the  two  series,  saying 
that  he  was  going  home,  and  might  never  have  another 
opportunity.” 


po  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


Such  was  Mr.  Dickinson's  interest  in  the  work  that 
he  persuaded  the  London  publishers,  Messrs.  Mac- 
millan & Co.,  to  issue  an  English  edition,  which 
appeared  in  1878.  The  book  was  introduced  by  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Dickinson,  which  ran  as  follows : — 

“ During  a recent  trip  to  the  United  States,  I had  the 
pleasure  of  making  the  acquaintance  of  W.  M.  Hunt,  the 
great  American  painter,  to  whom  I was  introduced  in  his 
own  atelier  in  Boston  by  my  friend  J.  T.  Fields.  At  the 
time  of  my  visit  he  was  engaged  in  correcting  the  drawings 
of  a class  of  female  students,  and  he  invited  me  to  come 
and  look  on  while  he  continued  his  occupation.  I was 
struck  by  the  clear,  incisive  observations  which  the  several 
efforts  of  the  students  elicited  as  he  passed  them  in  review, 
and  I was  soon  sensible  that  I was  in  the  presence  of  a 
great  teacher,  whose  teaching,  while  impressed  by  the 
French  training  he  had  received  in  Paris,  was  clothed  in 
language  distinctly  original,  racy,  and  American. 

“ Miss  Knowlton,  the  lady  superintendent  of  this  class, 
herself  one  of  Hunt’s  pupils,  showed  me  some  pencil  notes 
of  his  ‘ Talks  ’ which  she  had  written  down  at  odd  times  as 
he  moved  about  amongst  his  pupils.  I borrowed  these,  and 
looked  over  them  quietly  in  the  evening,  and  the  result  was 
that  through  my  recommendation  she  obtained  Hunt’s  con- 
sent to  publish  them.  I believe  them  to  contain  the 
substance  of  the  best  practical  teaching  I know  on  the  sub- 
ject of  painting.  Divorced  from  the  pupil  and  his  work, 
which  gave  them  their  special  value,  they  will  appear  some- 
what disconnected,  and  sometimes  contradictory,  but  to 
the  art-student  these  notes  will  give  all  the  information  he 
is  able  to  gather  from  the  experience  of  a greater  artist 
than  himself.” 


“TALKS  ON  ART  ” 


9i 


To  this  he  added : — 

“ The  writer  of  the  above  has  been  kindly  permitted  to 
subjoin  the  following  extract  from  a letter,  written  by  Mr. 
J.  E.  Millais,  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  American 
edition  of  Mr.  Hunt’s  ‘ Talks  about  Art.’ 

“ ‘ I have  read  Hunt’s  notes  attentively,  and  have  been 
greatly  interested  in  his  remarks.  He  says  vigorously  a 
good  many  things  we  say  amongst  ourselves,  though  he 
appears  at  times  to  contradict  himself,  inasmuch  as  he  tells 
a man  to  express  himself  in  his  own  way,  and  at  the  same 
time  that  it  cannot  be  done  in  that  way.  On  the  whole  his 
advice  is  undeniably  sound  and  useful  to  the  student,  if 
he,  the  student,  can  possibly  anticipate  what  comes  of 
experience. 

“ ‘ The  fact  is,  what  constitutes  the  finest  art  is  indescrib- 
able ; the  drawing  not  faultless,  but  possessing  some  essence 
beyond  what  is  sufficient.  The  French  school  which  Hunt 
speaks  of  appears  to  me  at  this  moment  to  aim  chiefly  at 
perfection. 

“ 6 Watteau  is  a striking  instance  of  charm  and  grace, 
without  the  perfection  of  drawing  and  of  out-of-door  light- 
ing which  is  obtained  invariably  by  the  best  men  of  the 
French  and  the  Fortuny  school. 

“ ‘Meissonier  is  more  complete  than  any  old  master  ever 
was.  I continually  see  French  work  of  which  one  can  only 
say,  “ I don’t  see  how  it  can  be  better  ! ” and  yet,  it  is  not 
necessarily  Fine  Art  of  the  highest  order ; not  greater  than 
Hogarth,  who  was  innocent  of  all  finesse  of  execution.  The 
question  is,  how  hard  a man  hits;  not  how  beautifully  he 
uses  the  gloves ; and  a useful  writer  on  Art  should  be  able 
to  separate  the  various  qualities  in  our  work  without  preju- 
dice, which  is  one  of  the  greatest  curses  we  have  to  fight. 


9 2 ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“ 6 1 should  like  very  much  to  see  your  friend  when  he 
comes  over  here,  and  we  will  have  an  exhaustive  talk  on 
the  subject.  He  is  healthy  and  manly ; so  there  would  be 
no  cunning  defence  of  his  principles,  which  are,  in  the 
main,  my  own. 

“ ‘ J.  E.  Millais.'  ” 

Among  the  letters  received  from  British  artists  was 
one  from  George  H.  Boughton,  who  wrote  to  Mr. 
Hunt:  — 

“ I am  extremely  pleased  and  comforted  by  the  book. 
It  has  a directness,  freshness,  and  conviction  that  can  only 
come  from  a man  who  has  been  in  earnest,  and  is  honest. 
So  pleased  was  I with  the  book  that  I sent  my  copy  to 
Robert  Browning,  who  writes  me  the  enclosed  letter : — 

“ ‘ Dear  Mr.  Boughton,  — I can't  say  how  much  I am 
obliged  to  you  for  the  book  you  so  kindly  sent  me.  I read 
it  at  once,  and  was  so  struck  with  its  good  sense  and  sug- 
gestive quality  that  I could  not  but  take  you  at  your  word 
and  send  it  to  my  son  in  Antwerp,  who,  this  morning,  writes 
that  he  has  greatly  enjoyed  a cursory  glance  at  its  contents, 
and  is  now  about  to  read  the  whole  with  the  attention  which 
it  deserves.  I am  much  interested  in  the  author,  and  hope 
to  hear  more  of  his  paintings,  — which  ought  to  be  capital. 
Do  let  me  thank  you  once  again  for  the  great  favor  which 
you  have  conferred  upon 

“ ‘ Yours  very  truly, 

“ ‘ Robert  Browning.'  " 

While  a New  York  art-critic  was  saying  that 
“ Hunt  gave  to  school-girls  what  was  meant  for 
mankind,”  English  critics,  like  Sir  Coutts  Lindsay, 


“TALKS  ON  ART” 


93 


were  regretting  that  their  artists  had  not  handed 
down  to  pupils  the  knowledge  which  they  had 
acquired. 

“ Suppose,”  he  said,  “ that  such  men  as  Millais,  Watts, 
Burne-Jones,  Sir  Frederick  Leighton,  Poynter,  and  others 
were  to  gather  around  them  a number  of  sympathetic 
students,  is  it  not  evident  that  the  riches  of  knowledge 
which  they  have  accumulated  would  fructify  in  the  minds 
of  others,  and  not  expire  with  their  own  lives? 

“ The  great  artists  have  always  done  this,  and  they  still 
do,  in  France  and  Germany,  what  every  one  did  in  Italy. 
The  old  Italian  artists  lived  and  died  in  the  midst  of  their 
schools,  accumulating  and  keeping  alive  art-knowledge  in 
a thousand  channels,  — creating  new  applicants  to  join  the 
swelling  river  of  Italian  art  till  it  has  flooded  the  whole  of 
Europe  with  its  glory.” 

If  “ art  is  nature  seen  through  a temperament,”  it 
is  easy  to  understand  why,  for  a time,  Hunt  stood 
absolutely  alone.  No  one  could  see  through  his 
eyes ; and,  more ’s  the  pity,  they  looked  too  much 
through  the  dusky  lenses  of  tradition.  Not  only 
must  he  do  good  work  himself,  but  he  must  educate 
the  community  to  understand  the  meaning  of  good 
work.  By  the  more  conservative  he  was  considered 
a bold  innovator,  who  must  not  be  encouraged. 

As  the  mighty  spirit  of  Beethoven  broke  away 
from  the  fetters  of  tradition,  so  Hunt  burst  all  bonds, 
and  dared  to  paint  what  he  saw  and  felt.  In  the  art 
of  this  country  he  was  The  Discoverer  of  many  of 


94  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


its  possibilities ; and  with  his  indomitable  spirit  he 
hastened  The  Flight  of  Night,  preparing  the  way  for 
those  who  should  come  after  him. 

In  a literary  community  Flunt  was  sometimes  criti- 
cised for  not  being  more  of  a reader  of  books.  He 
read  few  authors,  but  they  were  of  the  best.  He 
quickly  absorbed  the  significance  of  a book,  and 
gathered  from  it  whatever  might  help  him.  On  his 
studio  walls  might  always  be  found  quotations  from 
Emerson,  written  large,  and  with  a blunt  piece  of 
charcoal.  His  friend  Thaxter  read  to  him  from  the 
poems  of  Browning,  gleaning  especially  whatever 
Hunt  would  most  appreciate. 

Writers  on  art  generally  irritated  him,  because 
they  were  too  prone  to  regard  the  subject  only  from 
a literary  stand-point.  His  copy  of  the  writings  of 
William  Blake  bristled  with  emphatic  evidences  of 
his  favorable  and  sympathetic  marking.  Taine  and 
Fromentin  were  among  his  favorite  writers,  and  he 
recommended  them  without  reserve.  Of  William 
Hazlitt  he  spoke  in  the  highest  terms.  To  an  artist 
friend  he  wrote  : — 

“ I think  that  you  would  be  much  pleased  and 
benefited  if  you  would  read  Hazlitt’s  ‘ Criticisms  on 
Art,’  first  and  second  series,  edited  by  his  son.  Read, 
in  Volume  I,  the  account  of  his  first  portrait,  page  8. 
Read  twenty  pages  there ; then  read  a chapter  on 
a Portrait  by  Vandyke;  and  in  those  two  chapters 
you  will  find  a key  to  his  ideas  and  keen  perceptions, 


The  Flight  of  Night. 

From  a photograph  of  the  original  painting. 


' 


CRITICISMS  OF  HUNT 


95 


— perceptions  which  I think  few  literary  men  have 
ever  had  regarding  certain  things  in  art.  That  intelli- 
gent Hazlitt ! ” 

He  knew  when  to  stop  work,  — how  to  keep  his 
mind  free  from  that  fatigue  which  ruins  many  a 
picture.  When  weariness  was  half  suspected  he 
would  lay  down  his  brushes,  close  the  studio,  and  go 
off  for  a drive.  When  utterly  tired  out,  nothing  in- 
vigorated him  so  much  as  a hasty  trip  to  another 
State.  Said  a relative,  living  for  a time  in  New 
York : — 

“ We  all  knew  who  had  come  when  the  door-bell  rang 
late  in  the  night.  We  knew  that  it  was  William  Hunt ; 
and  how  the  children  would  rush  from  their  beds,  and 
everybody  beg  to  ‘ double  up,’  that  he  might  be  accom- 
modated in  the  rather  small  house.  How  we  would  sit  up 
nearly  all  night,  enjoying  him  and  his  talk  ! and  next  day 
he  would  be  off  again,  seeming  to  care  nothing  for  his  loss 
of  sleep.” 

Hunt  knew  instinctively  where  to  place  the  people 
whom  he  met,  shrinking  from  everything  small, 
mean,  ignoble.  To  each  one  he  conveyed,  perhaps 
unconsciously,  the  idea  which  he  received  of  the 
person  met.  To  designing,  unworthy  people  there 
would  come,  like  a lightning  flash,  some  salient  word 
or  phrase  which  would  reveal  the  fact  that  he  had 
read  them  unerringly. 

Yet  no  one  could  have  more  sympathy  with  his 
kind,  especially  if  they  were  ill  or  suffering  in  any 


96  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


way.  Coming  down  his  studio-stairs  one  morning, 
he  found  an  old  woman  struggling  with  a barrel  of 
ashes,  which  she  was  trying  to  carry  down  to  the 
sidewalk.  In  a twinkling,  Hunt  had  seized  one  of 
the  handles,  and  was  shortly  seen  trying  to  deposit 
the  burden  upon  the  curb-stone  of  the  sidewalk. 

In  the  same  spirit,  he  seized  the  hand-organ  of  a 
street-player,  rang  the  door-bell  of  a friend,  sum- 
moning the  entire  family  to  come  and  listen  to  his 
performance.  A substantial  sum  of  money  was  the 
result,  and  the  organ  grinder  went  away,  charmed 
with  his  unknown  benefactor,  and  with  his  unex- 
pected good  fortune. 

He  had  a quick,  responsive  power  of  appreciation ; 
estimating  people  at  their  true  value.  He  knew 
Couture’s  worth  as  an  artist  and  an  instructor;  but 
he  saw,  too,  the  moment  when  he  had  reached  his 
zenith,  was  resting  upon  his  laurels  and  his  “ method,” 
and  no  longer  producing  art  that  was  worthy  of 
him. 

He  felt  at  once  Millet’s  greatness.  This  was  long 
before  he  was  heard  of  even  in  France.  The  same 
is  true  of  his  hearty  appreciation  of  such  artists  as 
Gericault,  Corot,  Daubigny,  Barye,  Courbet,  Diaz, 
Troyon;  and  time  has  fully  confirmed  his  impres- 
sions. Genius  has  a quick  recognition  of  genius. 
Hunt  comprehended  each  and  all  of  these  men; 
and,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  held  them  in  highest 
esteem. 


ANECDOTES 


97 


This  quality  of  appreciation,  which  led  him  to 
comprehend  Michael  Angelo,  Raphael,  Velasquez, 
and  Albert  Diirer,  did  not  prevent  a ready  recog- 
nition of  good  work  done  in  any  country,  by  any 
hand. 

Of  his  friend  Robinson’s  Head  of  a Bull , owned 
by  Dr.  Angell,  he  said : — 

“ It  is  worthy  of  the  best  modern  master.  ” 

A sculptor-friend  of  Hunt,  who  had  executed, 
while  in  Paris,  some  fine  bronzes,  wrote  to  ask  if  it 
would  be  a good  idea  to  exhibit  them  in  Boston, 
and  wished  to  know  if  there  would  be  any  proba- 
bility of  their  being  sold.  He  received  this  charac- 
teristic answer : — 

“By  all  means  show  your  things  in  Boston.  If 
there  are  not  more  than  three  persons  here  who 
will  enjoy  them,  you  should  send  them.  These 
three  need  to  see  them.  As  for  selling,  that  you 
need  not  expect.  But,  if  you  can  get  up  a lecture 
on  the  shape  of  the  dishes  used  by  the  Greeks  in 
which  to  mix  plaster,  you  will  have  plenty  of 
chances  to  deliver  it;  that  subject  being,  at  this 
moment,  of  surpassing  importance  in  this  city.” 

He  was  greatly  amused  over  a remark  of  one  of 
the  Boston  Athenaeum  committee  on  art.  It  had 
been  proposed  to  give  Hunt  and  Gay  each  an  order 
for  a picture  to  be  hung  in  the  gallery  in  Beacon 
Street. 


7 


98  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“ Well,”  said  one  of  the  committee,  “ I don’t  mind 
giving  Gay  an  order;  but  not  Hunt.  He  doesn’t 
need  the  money.” 

Hunt  was  often  heard  to  say  that  for  every  twenty 
dollars  which  he  had  invested  in  art  he  had  received 
one  thousand.  He  had  bought  a dozen  or  more 
important  works  by  Millet,  to  say  nothing  of  many 
by  other  noted  French  painters,  and  a large  number 
by  American  artists  in  whose  work  he  saw  evidence 
of  promise.  Five  of  his  valuable  Millets  were  burned 
when  his  studio  was  destroyed  by  the  great  fire  in 
Summer  Street  in  1872.  Of  those  which  fortunately 
were  hanging  in  his  Beacon  Street  home,  thus  es- 
caping the  fire,  he  sold  five  to  Mr,  Quincy  A.  Shaw. 
These  were  The  Sower , The  Shepherdess , The  Shep- 
herd in  the  Moonlight , The  Sheep-Shearers , and  The 
Digger.  These  brought  the  sum  of  $10,000.  Within 
two  years  from  the  time  of  selling  these  pictures, 
Millet  had  died,  and  their  value  was  more  than 
doubled. 

While  Hunt  and  Robinson  were  painting  their 
Ploughing  Scene , a rain-storm  set  in. 

“ Go  ahead  ! ” said  Hunt.  “ The  paints  won’t 
melt.” 

“ I ’ll  plough,”  said  the  farmer,  “ the  rain  won’t 
hurt  me.” 

“Rain?”  exclaimed  Robinson.  “Why,  we  must 
paint  it ! ” And  the  picture  was  soon  completed. 


ANECDOTES 


99 


To  a pupil  who  was  in  tears  because  she  could  not 
paint  like  an  expert,  he  said : — 

“ I ’ll  tell  you  what  you  had  better  do.  You  had 
better  go  home  and  hem  a handkerchief.”  And  it 
was  said  in  a spirit  of  kindness  and  help,  knowing 
that  to  a nervous  woman  the  needle  is  sometimes 
her  best  resort. 

To  a pupil  who  came  from  her  New  York  state 
home  to  continue  her  lessons,  he  said : — 

“ Why,  Buffalo,  I did  not  know  you ! It  makes 
all  the  difference  with  you  ladies  how  you  wear  your 
hair,  — or,  some  one’s  else.” 

He  had  little  patience  with  beginners  whose  ambi- 
tion was  shown  by  the  height  of  their  easel-shelves. 
When  he  came  to  one  of  these  unfortunates,  wearily 
engaged  in  reaching  up  to  her  work,  he  would 
exclaim : — 

“ Another  ‘ Infant  Samuel ! ’ ” 

Riding  in  a Washington  Street  car  he  saw  a woman 
rise  from  her  seat  and  frantically  pull  the  bell-rope. 
Hunt  exclaimed,  sotto  voce , and  with  well-feigned 
dismay:  — 

“ That  woman  almost  went  by  Winter  Street!  ” (The 
Mecca  of  Boston  shoppers.) 

Hunt  was  painting  one  of  the  first  judges  in  Mas- 
sachusetts when  a son  of  the  sitter  called  to  see  the 


ioo  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


portrait.  Observing  only  the  shaded  white  shirt- 
front,  he  exclaimed : — 

“Is  father’s  shirt  as  soiled  as  that?  I thought  that 
he  wore  a white  one.” 

“ My  God  ! ” thundered  forth  the  painter.  “ Is  n’t 
your  father  anything  but  a white  shirt?  ” 

Speaking  of  stupid  people,  he  said  : — 

“ I ’d  like  to  be  like  that  teakettle,  stupid  thing. 
It  reflects  everything,  and  feels  nothing.” 

Being  at  his  friend  Thaxter’s  house  one  evening, 
mention  was  made  of  the  smoky  condition  of  the 
ceiling,  under  which  so  many  intellectual  revels 
had  been  held.  Fearing  that  an  attempt  would  be 
made  to  restore  its  accustomed  whiteness,  Hunt 
exclaimed : — 

“ Do  not  destroy  the  picklings  of  so  many  pleasant 
evenings ! ” 

Rising  from  his  chair  he  reached  to  the  ceiling, 
and  drew  upon  it  graceful  arabesques  with  his  finger. 

On  a certain  visit  to  New  York,  he  was  entertained 
one  evening  by  several  members  of  the  National 
Academy  of  Design.  In  the  midst  of  their  good 
cheer  and  friendly  feeling,  they  begged  him  to  come 
to  the  Metropolis,  and  they  would  make  him  a mem- 
ber of  the  Academy.  His  reply  was  as  follows : — 

“ These  inducements  are  really  irresistible.  But  I 
should  have  great  fears  that  I could  not  pass  your 


ANECDOTES 


IOI 


required  examination  as  a draughtsman,  even  to 
enter  your  drawing  school ; and  this  is  the  reason : — 

“ One  of  my  pupils  was  obliged  to  remove  to  your 
city,  and  asked  me  where  to  go  in  order  to  continue 
his  studies.  I told  him  to  go  to  your  school.  He 
made  inquiries  concerning  the  steps  to  be  taken, 
and  found  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  submit  some 
drawings  from  the  cast.  I selected  two  or  three 
heads  from  Trajan’s  column,  and  he  set  to  work  to 
draw  them.  Fearing  that  he  would  not  draw  them 
well  enough  for  New  York,  — although  they  might 
do  in  Boston,  — I helped  him  out.  In  fact,  I did 
most  of  the  work.  They  were  my  drawing  as  much 
as  anything  is  mine. 

“ In  due  time  they  were  submitted,  and  — rejected  ! 
The  poor  fellow  was  completely  disheartened ; and, 
in  his  sorrow,  sought  the  sympathy  of  one  of  your 
great  sculptors,  who,  upon  seeing  the  drawings, 
said : — 

“ ‘ Where  did  you  find  such  beastly  heads?  I don’t 
wonder  that  you  were  refused  ! ’ 

“ ‘ But  these  heads  are  from  the  famous  Column 
of  Trajan,  and  are  admired  the  world  over  ! ’ answered 
the  now  astonished  aspirant  for  a seat  in  your  school. 

“‘Famous!’  yelled  the  sculptor,  with  an  oath: 

‘ I can  make  a dozen  better  ones  than  that  before 
breakfast ! ’ 

“ I am  afraid  that,  after  this  bitter  experience,  I 
should  stand  a poor  chance  to  pass  your  examination. 


102  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


As  for  your  sculptor,  I think  that  he  could  safely 
take  out  eleven  from  his  dozen,  and  still  have  all  he 
could  do  to  make  one  head  as  good  as  the  Trajan’s; 
and  then  be  compelled  to  work  a few  minutes  after 
breakfast.” 

He  liked  the  work  of  the  early  landscape  artists  of 
the  English  school.  He  considered  that  Constable 
was  “ the  first  artist  to  base  his  tones  on  those  of 
nature.”  J.  M.  W.  Turner  had  a firm  hold  upon  his 
fancy.  He  would  say : — 

“The  Turners  follow  me!  I cannot  get  away 
from  them.  They  are  all  that  I can  hold.” 

When  Turner’s  Slave  Ship  was  first  shown  in 
America,  Hunt  was  asked  what  he  thought  of  it, 
and  did  he  think  that  it  was  worth  ten  thousand 
dollars. 

“ Well,”  replied  Hunt,  “ I see  a good  many  ten 
thousands  lying  around,  but  only  one  Slave  Ship." 

His  definition  of  Painting  was:  “Having  some- 
thing to  say,  and  not  saying  it  in  words.” 

Of  a friend,  an  artist  of  taste  and  talent  widely 
different  from  his  own,  he  said,  in  reply  to  the 
question : — 

“What  do  you  think  of  Mr.  W.’s  work?  ” 

“ Oh ! W.  and  I are  dear  friends ; but  we  hate 
each  other’s  pictures.” 


ANECDOTES 


103 


Accosted  by  an  acquaintance  with  the  question : 
“ How  do  you  do?”  he  replied : — 

“ I don’t  know,  and  I don’t  care.  If  I cared  I sup- 
pose that  I should  know.” 

When  asked  the  question,  “What  should  be  the 
limit  of  age  for  study  in  the  Boston  Art  Museum  ? ” 
he  replied : — 

“From  the  age  when  Beethoven  began  to  play  the 
piano,  — four  years,  — to  the  age  when  Titian  painted 
one  of  his  greatest  pictures,  — ninety  years.” 

While  in  Rome,  in  1867  or  ’68,  he  was  invited  to 
see  the  crowning  figure  which  was  to  be  placed  on 
a soldiers’  monument  in  one  of  our  Western  cities. 

“ How  did  you  like  it?”  was  asked  of  him. 

“ Oh  ! ” was  the  reply,  “ I thought  that  the  mouth 
was  extremely  fine.” 

Speaking  of  a leading  Boston  daily,  he  said : — 

“ I take  the  paper  because  I once  saw  a bright 
thing  in  it;  and  I’ve  been  looking  for  another  for 
more  than  twenty  years.” 

When  asked  why  he  did  not  try  homeopathy  for  a 
cold,  he  brusquely  replied : — 

“ I hate  the  darned  regularity  of  the  thing.” 

Calling  one  day  at  John  Johnston’s  studio,  a wood- 
engraver  came  in  and  fell  to  talking  of  his  art.  Seeing 


104  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


that  the  man  was  well  grounded  in  himself,  Hunt 
asked  him  if  he  knew  anything  of  Albert  Diirer. 

“Albert  Diirer!”  exclaimed  the  man;  “He  was 
played  out  long  ago  ! ” 

“Played  out!  Is  he?”  responded  the  artist.  “If 
there  were  one  A.  D.  in  this  town,  fellows  like  you 
would  never  have  anything  to  do ! ” 

While  at  Niagara,  his  sister  remarked,  as  she 
returned  to  their  hotel,  that,  while  buying  some  bead- 
work  in  a small  shop,  she  had  been  greatly  distressed 
by  hearing  a sick  child  cry  in  the  back  room.  She 
was  sure  that  the  child  must  be  suffering  greatly. 
Its  screams  still  pierced  her  ears. 

“ I believe,”  said  Hunt,  “ that  I can  cure  that  child ; 
and  what  is  more,  I am  going  to  do  it.” 

He  arose  from  his  chair,  and  called  for  his  over- 
shoes. It  was  half  past  nine  o’clock  in  the  evening, 
dark  and  raining;  but  he  would  not  be  dissuaded 
from  his  purpose.  Asking  for  the  whereabouts  of 
the  shop,  he  sallied  out  hastily.  At  one  o’clock  in 
the  morning  he  returned,  rather  wet,  but  very  happy. 

“ How’s  your  child?  ” he  was  asked. 

“ She ’s  all  right.  I left  her  sleeping ; and  I tell 
you,  that  kind  of  work  pays ! ” 


LANDSCAPE  PAINTING 


io5 


CHAPTER  X 

Landscape  Painting,  1874  — Visit  to  Florida  — Journey 
to  Mexico  in  1875  — Peculiar  Jackets  and  Hats  — A 
Painting  Wagon  — A City  Letter  — Summer  in  West 
Newbury,  Mass.  — Letters  on  Portrait  Painting  — 
Naushon  — N orth  Easton  — The  Picture,  “ Spring 
Chickens  ” 

T TUNT’S  first  serious  essay  in  landscape  painting 
was  probably  made  in  the  spring  of  1874, 
when  he  visited  Florida  in  pursuit  of  recreation  and 
health.  This  telegraphic  note  was  received  by  a 
friend  in  Boston : — 

“We  have  had  the  best  possible  time.  Beautiful  summer 
weather  ever  since  we  left  New  York.  Sea  for  a canoe. 
Thermometer  75 0 in  the  shade.  State-rooms  on  deck,  and 
doors  and  windows  open  all  night.  Why  don’t  people 
move  south  oftener? 

“ Expect  to  reach  Havana  to-morrow.  We  are  just  off 
the  coast  of  Florida,  fishing. 

“ Steamer  just  arrived  in.  W.  M.  H.” 

While  in  Florida  he  was  the  guest  of  his  friend, 
Hon.  John  M.  Forbes  of  Milton,  Mass.,  and  many 
beautiful  charcoal  drawings  were  the  result  of  this 
trip.  He  was  especially  successful  in  catching  the 
spirit  of  the  dreamy  landscape  of  that  region.  His 


io6  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


paintings  of  the  St.  John's  River  and  of  several  of  the 
Florida  creeks  were  exquisite  in  color  and  sentiment, 
and  found  ready  purchasers. 

Before  leaving  Florida  he  wrote : — 

“ Magnolia,  April  2d. 

“We  are  having  real  summer  weather  here.  Ther- 
mometer sometimes  as  high  as  82°,  or  even  higher.  Alli- 
gators sunning  themselves  in  the  creeks,  and  the  foliage 
now  so  dense  that  the  novelty  of  it  is  passed ; also  that 
lovely  contrast  of  the  brown  masses  of  trees  with  the 
bright,  tender  green.  All  this,  with  an  occasional  gigantic 
cypress  reflected  in  the  perfectly  still  water  of  the  creeks, 
make  pictures  to  wonder  at  if  not  to  paint. 

“ I have  done  next  to  nothing,  between  you  and  me,  but 
I can’t  help  it ; and  I feel  that  had  I done  literally  nothing 
it  might  have  been  better  for  me. 

“All  the  accounts  from  the  north  have  described  the 
weather  as  so  dreadful  that  we  have  not  been  tempted  to 
move,  especially  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Forbes  do  not  care  to 
meet  icebergs  on  their  way  to  Boston,  or  even  after 
arriving.1  * 

No  painter  had  ever  seen  Florida  as  Hunt  saw  it, 
and  the  cordial  reception  given  to  his  work  in  Boston 
aroused  in  him  a new  interest  and  enthusiasm.  He 
felt  that  the  spring  and  summer  season  need  not 
always  be  spent  in  a city  studio;  that  there  was  a 
new  book  to  be  opened,  a new  song  to  be  sung, — 
the  praise  of  out-of-door  life. 

In  the  spring  of  1875  he  went  to  Mexico  in  com- 
pany with  Colonel  Greeley  S.  Curtis.  The  journey 


Washing  by  the  River. 

From  the  original  charcoal  drawing. 


\ 


PECULIAR  JACKETS  AND  HATS 


107 


was  one  of  pure  and  unique  enjoyment,  and,  as  far  as 
possible,  he  entered  into  an  artistic  study  of  the 
country  in  a way  that  showed  what  excellent  work 
might  have  been  done  had  his  stay  been  longer. 
Under  date  of  March  19th  he  wrote: — - 

“ Here  we  are  at  anchor,  four  miles  off  the  coast  of 
Yucatan,  having  passed  two  days  most  agreeably  at  Havana. 
Certainly,  the  island  is  beautiful.  I wrote  you  that  we 
made  an  excursion  into  the  interior,  to  the  city  of  Matan- 
sas.  Fruits,  flowers,  and  rich  vegetation.  Thermometer  at 
8o°.  Everything  charming,  and  full  of  novelty.  Perfectly 
well,  and  no  cold.  A most  restful  excursion  so  far. 

“ The  heat,  however,  is  so  great  that  I made  up  my  mind 
not  to  go  on  shore  on  an  excursion  of  twenty-four  miles 
into  the  interior  to  the  city  of  Merida,  — a very  interesting 
place ; but  I do  not  want  to  risk  riding  in  the  sun  so  far,  011 
a cart  without  springs.  I will  postpone  the  visit  to  another 
occasion. 

“ I do  not  expect  to  do  much  with  paint  or  charcoal 
either,  if  I can  content  myself  to  be  idle,  — which  has  per- 
fectly satisfied  me  so  far.  Themometer  here  from  8o°  to 
90°  the  year  round. 

“ I shall  not  undertake  to  describe  anything,  but  want 
you  and  my  friends  to  know  that  I am  well.  Hope  to 
reach  Mexico  in  about  four  or  five  days  from  here.  Weigh 
anchor  this  afternoon,  and  leave  for  Vera  Cruz ; then  go  by 
railroad  to  Mexico. 

“ I hope  that  you  are  well,  and  not  over-taxing  yourself 
with  your  work.  I have  suffered  so  much  by  it  that  I 
know  well  what  it  is. 


u Yours  truly, 


“ W.  M.  Hunt.” 


io8  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


The  objects  of  artistic  interest  which  especially  ap- 
pealed to  the  artist  were  the  sinuous  lines  of  the 
mountains,  and  the  picturesque  figures  and  garb  of 
the  Mexicans.  Many  sketches  in  soft-pencil  and  in 
charcoal  were  brought  home,  but  they  paled  by  the 
side  of  the  gorgeous  trappings  which  were  the  valued 
souvenirs  of  his  trip.  A Mexican  pony  for  his  little 
son,  and  hats,  belts,  blankets  of  different  kinds,  were 
shown  with  great  delight.  A teacup  full  of  opals 
was  his  most  cherished  prize.  As  he  turned  them 
over  he  seemed  to  recognize  each  by  some  peculiar 
characteristic,  and  declared  that  the  possession  of 
such  a treasure  ought  to  make  an  artist  paint  skies 
that  should  have  both  light  and  color.  He  had  found 
them  at  a dealer’s  in  Mexico,  and,  to  the  man’s 
astonishment,  had  bought  all  that  he  had. 

In  like  manner  he  once  bought,  in  Boston,  a dozen 
Finnish  jackets  of  a man  who  had  risked  their  im- 
portation. He  considered  them  a bargain  at  twelve 
dollars  apiece,  especially  as  one  or  two  would  be  sure 
to  last  during  a life-time.  They  were  of  a fine  red- 
dish brown  leather,  lined  with  red  flannel,  and  ad- 
mirable for  horse- back  riding  in  winter  weather,  as 
the  cold  air  could  not  possibly  penetrate  them. 

His  manner  of  supplying  himself  with  hats  was 
peculiar.  Passing  by  all  the  shops  where  silk  or 
Derby  hats  were  sold,  he  would  walk  hastily  down  to 
the  North  End,  enter  a dealer’s  shop,  go  directly 
through  the  dingy  interior  to  the  back  enclosure, 


A PAINTING  WAGON 


109 

reach  up  to  a high  shelf,  and  take  down  half  a dozen 
soft,  fine  hats,  for  which  the  owner  could  find  no  sale, 
and  buy  all  that  suited  him.  No  stylish  hat  could 
have  been  so  becoming  to  his  Titianesque  head  and 
features  as  these  cap-like  coverings  which  no  one  else 
would  buy.  In  finding  the  particular  shop  and  shelf 
he  confessed  to  being  guided  by  a sort  of  instinct. 

In  the  spring  of  1875  he  employed  his  leisure  hours 
in  planning  and  superintending  the  construction  of  a 
painter’s  wagon,  or  van,  as  he  called  it,  that  he  might 
make  his  summer  sketching  tours  at  will  and  in  the 
most  convenient  manner. 

Every  landscape  painter  has  doubtless  noticed 
that  he  finds  his  best  views  and  compositions  while 
driving.  The  subject  that  appeals  to  the  eye  from 
the  seat  of  a wagon  is  often  wholly  different  from  that 
presented  from  a lower  point  of  view. 

The  van  was  a large  covered  wagon,  drawn  by  two 
horses,  and  equipped  with  everything  pertaining  to  a 
painter’s  outfit.  It  carried  not  only  canvases,  paints, 
and  easels,  but  had  compartments  for  provisions,  and 
long  seats  that  could  be  used  for  sleeping-bunks. 
Hunt  gleefully  announced  that  it  was  “ made  by  a 
man  who  built  gypsy-wagons,”  and  looked  forward 
with  delight  to  many  a season  of  sketching  tours. 

For  him  work  was  a deep  and  continual  pleasure, 
and  whatever  would  help  him  in  his  work  was  seized 
upon  with  an  avidity  which  counted  neither  expense 
nor  pains. 


no  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


While  awaiting  the  construction  of  the  van,  Hunt 
and  his  artist  friend,  Salisbury  Tuckerman,  occupied 
for  a few  weeks  a suite  of  rooms  in  Mt.  Vernon 
Street,  opposite  the  church  on  the  corner  of  Charles 
Street.  Writing  to  the  friend  whose  rooms  he  had 
taken,  he  said : — 

“ It  is  just  striking  seven  in  the  old  belfry  opposite. 
Flies  are  buzzing  in  the  sun  through  the  leaves  before  the 
window,  and  the  continuous,  steady  roar  of  wheels  upon 
the  pavement  is  as  refreshing  to  the  ear  as  though  Tucker- 
man and  I had  rooms  overlooking  Niagara. 

“ The  birds  sing  to  us,  and  we  are  delighted  with  our 
nest  so  near  them.  The  little  rooms  are  jolly.  It  will  be 
hard  to  get  them  away  from  us.  We  shall  hold  them  as 
tight  as  a baby  holds  a peppermint. 

“ Maggie  and  her  sister  have  put  everything  in  good 
order,  and  washed  the  windows  so  well  that  we  can  only 
tell  when  they  are  open  or  shut  by  the  line  of  the  sash. 

“We  had  a wonderfully  pleasant  trip  on  Mr.  Forbes’ 
yacht,  and,  returning  to  town,  just  met  the  hot  Tuesday 
which  startled  us  a little ; but  a rousing  rain  came  to  our 
relief,  and  so  cooled  everything  that  it  does  n’t  sizzle ; so 
we  are  all  right.  Drove  out  early  yesterday  morning  with 
Tuckerman,  and  am  now  waiting  for  him  to  finish  his  bath 
before  taking  an  early  breakfast  at  Brigham’s,  Washington 
Street,  and  a drive  over  to  Chelsea  Beach  before  we  begin 
our  day’s  work. 

“ Our  evenings  are  chiefly  taken  up  by  the  various  per- 
formances of  the  nigger-minstrels,  and  we  go  as  regularly 
to  the  theatre  as  a pair  of  stage-critics. 

“'Temperance,  and  the  broiling  sun  of  Buzzard’s  Bay, 


SUMMER  IN  WEST  NEWBURY 


hi 


have  burned  my  nose  to  a blister,  and  you  would  hardly 
recognize  in  the  sunburnt  features  of  the  tar  the  thin 
face  of  the  sallow  painter. 

“ Where  is  Tuckerman?  Why  does  n’t  he  come?  Here 
I am  through  my  paper. 

“ Yours  truly, 

“W.  M.  Hunt.” 

The  van  proved  every  way  successful.  With  his 
friend  Tuckerman,  a pair  of  good  horses,  and  a 
driver,  Hunt  started  on  what  might  be  called  his 
career  as  a landscape-painter.  The  van  was  a 
painters  camp  on  wheels,  and  afforded  its  owner  the 
utmost  satisfaction. 

Calling  upon  some  old  friends  at  Curzon’s  Mills, 
West  Newbury,  Mass.,,  Hunt  became  fascinated  with 
that  beautiful  locality,  and  established  himself  there 
for  the  summer,  boarding  at  a farm-house,  where  he 
was  soon  joined  by  his  mother  and  sister. 

His  work  at  this  time  was  characteristic  of  the 
refined  and  tender  influence  of  the  Artichoke  River, 
— a gentle  stream  of  surpassing  beauty.  Much  of 
it  was  done  in  pastel,  and  is  owned  by  different 
picture-buyers,  — chiefly  in  Boston. 

While  in  West  Newbury  he  received  a letter  from 
a pupil  in  whose  work  he  had  taken  a most  kindly 
interest.  He  had  seen  a portrait  which  she  had 
undertaken,  and  had  said : — 

“ Let  me  know  how  it  goes  on,  and  tell  me  if  I can 
help  you.” 


1 12  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


In  reply  to  a letter  in  which  she  deplored  the  slow- 
ness of  its  drying,  he  wrote : — 

“ I was  surprised  to  learn  that  you  should  expect  raw- 
oil  to  dry  burnt  sienna  in  less  than  a year.  When  you 
want  to  make  a frottee  over  which  to  paint,  you  should 
always  put  in  either  drying-oil  or  siccatif,  — Haarlem  or 
Courtrai,  or  a little  Japan  varnish  and  turpentine,  which  is 
very  efficient. 

“ Keeping  your  under-color  dry  before  over-painting  is 
one  of  the  great  secrets ; and  by  putting  in  proper  dryers 
and  painting  thin  enough  you  can  always  so  arrange  it  that 
you  never  need  to  wait  for  your  work  to  dry  in  case  you  are 
really  hurried. 

“ If  not  hurried  just  lay  in  your  under-painting  frankly, 
in  a rousing,  solid  way,  and  with  white  lead  and  black 
mixed  with  your  colors.  Then  give  it  a good  dry. 

“ So  much  for  advice  in  painting  ! all  of  which  I thought 
that  you  knew  before. 

“ We  arrived  here  in  our  van  on  Thursday  evening,  and 
are  passing  a few  days  with  my  mother  and  sister.  Jane  is 
painting  some  nice  things.  Our  van  works  wonderfully, 
and  is  the  admiration  of  all  beholders. 

“ I should  really  like  to  drive  up  to  the  mountains  with 
it.  Not  that  I think  that  it  is  more  paintable  up  there 
than  here,  but  the  air  is  wonderfully  refreshing,  and  the 
driving  so  pleasant.  I shall  not  give  up  the  idea  of  mak- 
ing a little  tour  through  the  mountains  before  returning  to 
Boston.  Yours  truly, 

“W.  M.  Hunt.” 

To  the  same  pupil  he  wrote  again  about  her 
work : — 


NAUSHON 


IT3 


“ How  would  a sky  background  look  upon  the 
little  portrait?  Or,  how  would  she  look  out-of-doors 
against  the  trees,  or  a forest  background?  Why 
don’t  you  try  it  once?  I think  that  you  would  find 
it  quite  as  satisfactory  as  working  in  a room.  At 
any  rate,  take  her  to  walk  with  you  some  morning 
and  see.  You  could  use  the  same  drawing,  and 
could  work  on  your  background  sometimes  without 
her.  Remember  what  pretty  out-door  pictures  Rey- 
nolds painted.” 

The  season  at  West  Newbury  was  one  which  pro- 
duced much  good  work.  With  pastel  he  was  very 
successful  in  representing  the  rich  yet  tender  hues 
of  the  autumnal  landscape. 

In  the  same  year  he  made  six  or  more  character- 
istic studies  of  the  weird  and  mystical  scenery  of  the 
Island  of  Naushon,  the  summer  residence  of  his 
friend,  Mr.  Forbes.  This  unique  island,  off  the 
southeastern  coast  of  Massachusetts,  was  often  vis- 
ited by  Hunt,  who  enjoyed  his  friend’s  warm-hearted 
hospitality,  and  the  soft  yet  exhilarating  air  of  the 
island. 

In  the  spring  of  1877,  Hunt  was  at  North  Easton, 
Mass.,  for  the  purpose  of  painting  several  portraits 
in  the  families  of  the  Messrs.  Ames,  whose  summer 
residences  were  there.  He  fitted  up  a barn  for  a 
studio,  and  did  some  excellent  portrait  work.  Some 
of  his  brother  artists  were  drawn  thither  by  his  mag- 
netism, and  at  times  painted  with  him.  It  is  sup- 

8 


1 14  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


posed  that  some  of  the  cattle-pictures  produced  by 
Hunt  and  Tom  Robinson  may  have  been  painted  at 
North  Easton. 

Although  a welcome  guest  at  the  homes  of  the 
Messrs.  Ames,  Hunt  sought  the  humble  lodgings  of 
his  friends,  — a simple  boarding-house  for  workmen 
in  the  mills. 

“ My  room  was  pretty  small,”  he  said,  “ and  at 
night  I had  to  hang  my  vest  up,  — on  the  floor;  but 
Tom  was  there,  and  the  others  too,  sometimes ; and 
they  kept  me  in  the  mood  of  painting.  If  I had  n’t 
been  in  that  little  room  of  mine,  I never  should  have 
seen  the  subject  for  my  Spring  Chickens.  I saw, 
every  morning,  that  beautiful  mist  upon  the  river,  the 
tender  spring  foliage,  and  the  village  houses  reflected 
in  the  still  water.  Then  a little  girl  would  come  out 
upon  the  river  bank  to  see  the  chickens ; and  I tell 
you,  it  was  a picture  that  had  to  be  painted ! ” 


SKETCH-CLASS  OF  HUNT  PUPILS  115 


CHAPTER  XI 


Sketch-Class  of  Hunt  Pupils  — George  Fuller — Mag- 
nolia, Mass.  — Hunt’s  Painting  Assistant  — Glou- 
cester Harbor  Painted  for  Light,  1877  — The  Park 
Square  Studio,  Boston  — Public  Exhibition — Work- 
ing from  Memory  — The  Bathers  — Visit  to  Ni- 
agara, 1878 


NUMBER  of  Hunt’s  pupils  had  formed  the 


habit  of  visiting,  during  each  month  of  June* 
some  picturesque  locality  for  the  purpose  of  sketch- 
ing. When  their  two  weeks’  stay  was  nearly  ended, 
it  was  their  custom  to  invite  Hunt  to  come  and  see 
their  sketching  ground  and  criticise  their  work. 

In  one  of  these  excursions  they  had  discovered  a 
genius,  — no  less  a person  than  George  Fuller,  who 
was  painting  in  a studio  in  the  midst  of  his  beautiful 
rural  surroundings  at  South  Deerfield, 

“ The  world  forgetting,  by  the  world  forgot.” 

He  must  come  out  from  his  seclusion.  Hunt  was 
sent  for,  and  he  saw  at  once  the  merit  of  the  work 
of  the  poet-artist.  Mr.  Doll,  the  autocratic  picture- 
dealer  of  Boston,  was  called  upon  to  introduce  him 
to  the  public;  Fuller’s  old-time  neighbor  and  friend, 
E.  T.  Billings,  offered  the  hospitality  of  his  studio  in 
Boston  while  the  pictures  could  be  varnished  and 


1 16  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


signed.  Mr.  Doll  came,  saw,  and  was  conquered ; 
and  George  Fuller  was  at  once  launched  upon  a 
successful  artistic  career,  which  continued  through 
life. 

In  their  sketching  trip  of  1876,  the  Hunt  class  had 
discovered  the  primitive  fishing  village  of  Kettle  Cove, 
or,  as  it  was  later  called,  Magnolia,  — which  occupied 
a part  of  Gloucester  and  of  Manchester.  The  scen- 
ery combined  much  sketching  material  in  a little 
space.  In  addition  to  a small  beach  there  was  a 
rocky  shore  of  much  boldness,  and  the  cliffs  were 
surmounted  by  well-wooded  groves.  One  of  its 
charms  was  a willow-road  of  rare  picturesqueness, 
and  there  was  a graceful  variety  of  hill  and  dale. 
The  fishermen  at  their  work,  the  simple  cottage  folk, 
and  a few  artists  were  the  only  people  to  be  seen. 
In  less  than  ten  years  the  place  became  a fashionable 
resort,  and  its  artistic  interest  was  gone. 

In  the  following  year,  1877,  while  casting  about 
for  a desirable  place  in  which  to  work,  Hunt  met, 
in  Boston,  his  friend,  W.  R.  Emerson,  the  architect, 
and  made  inquiries  about  Magnolia.  Could  a build- 
ing be  found  for  a studio  ? Mr.  Emerson  was  spend- 
ing the  summer  in  Magnolia,  and  begged  him  to 
come  down  and  see  for  himself.  The  natives  did 
not  take  kindly  to  the  tall  painter  with  a long  gray 
beard  who  wanted  to  buy  a barn  or  a fish-house, 
and  at  first  it  seemed  impossible  to  get  a foothold. 
Thanks  to  the  persuasions  of  a cultivated  lady  from 


I 


The  Studio  at  Magnolia,  Mass. 


STUDIO  AT  MAGNOLIA,  MASS.  117 

Gloucester,  one  of  the  land-owners  allowed  him  to 
purchase  a disused  barn  and  carpenter’s  shop  adjoin- 
ing. She  assured  the  owner  that  Hunt  was  a great 
artist,  and  that  his  coming  to  Magnolia  would  be  the 
making  of  the  place. 

Hunt  entered  with  zeal  upon  the  necessary  repairs 
and  the  additional  construction.  All  the  working  force 
of  the  village  and  neighborhood  was  summoned  to 
ensure  rapid  work;  and  in  three  weeks  the  old,  un- 
sightly buildings  were  converted  into  a picturesque 
structure  with  galleries  on  the  outside,  one  of  them 
ending  in  a seat  in  an  old  willow-tree.  The  carpen- 
ter-shop was  turned  into  a studio,  the  chief  light 
coming  from  the  wide-open  door,  or  from  a small 
window  or  two,  which  seemed  rather  insufficient.  A 
Manchester  friend  sent  over  a handsome  Franklin 
stove,  but  the  rustic  chimney  refused  to  draw,  and 
sent  nearly  all  the  smoke  down  into  the  room.  To 
obviate  this  difficulty,  Hunt  purchased  a small  stove 
which  was  warranted  not  to  smoke,  and  placed  it 
on  top  of  the  elegant  Franklin  variety,  furnishing,  as 
he  said,  one  stove  for  use,  the  other  for  ornament. 

The  barn  was  two  stories  in  height,  the  lower 
portion  being  occupied  by  the  van,  a phaeton  and 
a dog-cart,  as  well  as  by  stalls  for  two  or  three  horses. 
The  upper  room  was  known  as  the  “ barracks,”  and 
half  a dozen  cot-beds  were  ranged  around  the  sides, 
as  seats  by  day  and  beds  by  night. 

Hunt  had  with  him  his  assistant,  Carter,  and  his 


1 18  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


wagon-boy,  Tom.  Of  the  latter  he  made  several 
picturesque  studies,  and  it  is  said  that  he  became, 
later,  a successful  painter  of  horses  in  a Western  city. 
Carter  was  a man  whom  Hunt  had  found  in  Boston, 
painting  decorations  for  wagons  and  signs.  Entering 
into  conversation  with  him  in  regard  to  his  work, 
he  conceived  the  idea  that  he  might  be  useful  as 
a painter’s  assistant,  and  invited  him  to  Magnolia, 
where  he  subsequently  engaged  him  to  go  upon 
sketching  excursions,  to  prepare  painting-grounds  and 
surfaces,  and  to  under-paint  for  him  when  necessary. 
He  was  an  important  factor  in  the  success  of  Hunt’s 
work,  not  only  at  Magnolia  and  later  at  Niagara 
Falls,  but  also  in  the  Albany  Capitol,  taking  charge 
of  the  mechanical  work,  and  leaving  Hunt  in  full 
possession  of  his  strength,  which,  at  the  best,  was 
never  rugged.  The  painter  had  tried  to  have  a few 
of  his  pupils  work  as  assistants ; and  several  had,  at 
times,  rendered  efficient  service ; but  with  the  build- 
ing of  the  painting  wagon  came  the  need  of  a work- 
ing man  who  should  always  be  at  hand,  out  of  doors 
or  in. 

The  summer  of  1877  was  productive  of  much 
good  work.  The  van  was  almost  daily  in  requisition, 
and  Hunt  painted  some  excellent  landscapes,  marines, 
and  wood-interiors.  He  would  start  off  for  the  day’s 
work,  taking  with  him  Tom,  the  wagon-boy,  and 
Carter,  the  assistant.  Arrived  at  the  spot  selected, 
Hunt  would  leap  from  the  van,  take  a camp-stool 


PAINTING  FOR  LIGHT 


119 

and  a block  of  charcoal  paper,  and,  with  a stick 
of  soft  charcoal  seize  the  salient  points  of  the  sub- 
ject to  be  rendered.  While  thus  engaged  the  assist- 
ant would  arrange  an  easel  and  select  necessary- 
paints  and  brushes.  Sometimes  he  was  told  to  “ lay 
in  ” the  first  painting,  — reproducing  the  effect  of 
the  charcoal-sketch,  while  Hunt  would  watch  intently 
for  the  right  moment  to  come,  when  he  would  seize 
palette  and  brushes,  and  perhaps  complete  the  picture 
in  one  sitting. 

In  a single  afternoon  his  celebrated  Gloucester 
Harbor  was  painted,  and  he  returned  to  Magnolia 
aglow  with  enthusiasm. 

“ I believe,”  he  exclaimed,  “ that  I have  painted 
a picture  with  light  in  it!  ” 

At  that  time  little  was  said  in  this  country  of 
painting  for  light.  The  majority  of  landscape  artists 
were  prone  to  obtain  an  effect  of  light  by  the  jux- 
taposition of  shadow,  sometimes  in  the  manner  of 
Cuyp,  and  other  old  masters.  In  early  spring  Hunt 
would  seize  his  color-box  and  drive  out  to  Newton- 
ville  to  see  his  friend  Levi  Thaxter,  painting  perhaps 
from  his  door-way.  Returning  to  town,  and  to  his 
class-room,  he  would  exhibit  his  study  of  the  spring- 
like, opaline  colors,  and  say : — 

“ Go  out  into  the  sunshine,  and  try  to  get  some 
of  its  color  and  light.  Then  come  back  here,  and 
see  how  black  we  are  all  painting ! ” 

The  summer  of  1877  was  thoroughly  enjoyed  by 


120  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


the  painter,  whose  landscape  work  evinced  steady 
growth  and  remarkable  originality.  His  color  be- 
came fresh  and  light,  and  thus  helped  to  prepare  him 
for  the  work  of  the  next  year,  which  was  to  be  his 
greatest  and  his  last. 

The  following  winter  found  him  constantly  at  work 
in  his  new  Park  Square  studio,  which  was  then  the 
best-appointed  one  in  the  country.  The  high,  north 
light  was  admirable  for  portrait  painting,  while  the 
large  northerly  skylight  made  of  the  great  room  an 
excellent  gallery  for  exhibitions. 

In  November,  1877,  Hunt  made  a public  exhibi- 
tion of  his  work  done  on  the  North  Shore,  opening 
the  studio  freely  to  all  who  cared  to  come.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  two  large  walls  which  were  filled  with 
paintings,  he  showed  a third  wall  covered  with  char- 
coal drawings  made  at  different  periods,  and  with 
photographic  representations  of  many  of  his  portraits 
and  ideal  figure-pictures.  His  landscape  paintings 
were  eminently  characteristic  of  New  England;  and 
aside  from  their  masterly  technique , gave  little  evi- 
dence of  his  study  with  French  artists,  — original  in 
selection  and  treatment,  fresh  and  light  in  color,  and 
always  pervaded  by  an  atmosphere  which  few  of  our 
painters  then  knew  how  to  obtain. 

One  of  the  most  distinguished  examples  of  his 
power  of  working  from  memory  was  afforded  by  his 
picture  of  a couple  of  youths  who  were  bathing  in 
a sheltered  cove  of  the  Charles  River.  Hunt  was 


The  Bathers. 

From  the  original  painting  owned  by  Mrs.  Charles  Fairchild. 


THE  BATHERS 


121 


driving  at  the  time,  and  was  powerfully  impressed  by 
what  he  had  seen.  Against  a background  of  trees, 
full  of  the  mystery  of  the  woods,  stood  a beautiful 
nude  figure  on  the  shoulders  of  another  youth  whose 
feet  seemed  to  rest  upon  the  bed  of  the  shallow 
stream.  The  top  figure  was  poising  itself  before 
giving  a leap  into  the  water,  and  its  action  was  one 
of  sinuous  grace.  The  flesh,  with  its  tints  of  pearl 
. and  rose,  gleamed  softly  in  the  shadow  of  over- 
hanging trees,  and  all  this  was  shown  in  the  painting, 
which  is  owned  by  Mrs.  Charles  Fairchild  of  Boston. 
On  seeing  this  vision  of  beauty,  Hunt  drove  back 
into  town,  drew  at  once  a small  charcoal  sketch  of 
the  subject,  and  from  this  made  his  painting.  The 
purchaser  soon  appeared,  and  it  was  sold  on  condi- 
tion that  the  artist  might  repeat  the  subject  on  a 
somewhat  larger  canvas.  The  second  picture  of  The 
Bathers  would  be  considered  remarkable  by  any  one 
not  familiar  with  the  first.  Good  as  it  is,  it  lacks  the 
spontaneity  and  frankness  of  the  original  picture.  It 
has  been  engraved  most  successfully  by  S.  A.  Schofif, 
and  is  a favorite  decoration  in  many  a household 
where  wealth  is  guided  by  aesthetic  taste. 

In  November,  1877,  he  opened  his  new  studio  in 
Park  Square,  Boston,  for  a public  exhibition  of  his 
work.  The  paintings  of  the  year  were  many  and 
varied,  — portraits,  ideal  figures,  and  a large  number 
of  landscape  paintings  and  studies  making  a collec- 
tion of  remarkable  originality  and  vigor.  It  scarcely 


122  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


seemed  to  be  the  work  of  one  man,  — such  was  its 
versatility  and  varied  power.  In  addition  to  the 
paintings  shown,  a large  wall  was  filled  with  charcoal 
drawings  and  with  reproductions  of  former  works  of 
the  artist,  — especially  of  portraits  that  had  gone  to 
their  owners. 

Through  the  winter  he  worked  successfully  on 
several  portraits,  as  well  as  a number  of  ideal  figures, 
but,  as  spring  approached,  suffered  a diminution  of 
muscular  strength  which  interfered  with  his  ability 
to  paint.  Feeling  the  need  of  rest  and  absolute 
change,  he  visited  Niagara  Falls  in  early  June, 
resolving  to  go  to  Europe  in  the  autumn  before  re- 
suming his  work  in  Boston.  So  charmed  was  he 
with  the  Falls  and  their  entire  neighborhood  that 
he  sent  to  Boston  for  paints  and  canvases,  and  began 
a series  of  landscape  paintings  that  were  far  in 
advance  of  any  of  his  previous  out-door  work.  A 
pupil  who  saw  him  at  this  time  wrote : — 

“ Mr.  Hunt  says  that  there  is  nothing  like  Niagara  in 
June ; that  the  foliage  is  lovely,  and  the  air  too.  It  has 
done  him  a great  deal  of  good.  He  says  that  it  has  taken 
the  stiffness  out  of  his  knee,  and  also  cured  the  cold  that 
he  had.  He  thinks  that  there  is  something  peculiar  about 
the  climate.  He  is  doing  a great  deal  of  work,  — oil- 
painting  and  pastel,  which  last  he  likes  extremely  for  out- 
of-door  sketching.  I am  sure  that  what  he  is  doing  must 
be  good,  for  he  did  not  run  it  down  at  all,  although  he  did 
not  say  much  about  it  in  any  way.” 


VISIT  TO  NIAGARA 


123 


All  the  work  done  at  the  Falls  showed  great 
progress.  Some  of  the  paintings  were  large,  — one 
being  62  X 105  inches.  All  were  treated  with  sim- 
plicity and  breadth.  Their  quality  of  atmosphere 
was  remarkable,  and  the  great  volume  of  water  had 
a massive  rendering  which  was  impressive.  Some 
of  the  smaller  canvases  had  a strange  fascination,  and 
were  among  the  best  of  the  pictures  painted  at  the 
Falls.  One  representing  the  opaline  color  of  the 
mist  was  of  surpassing  beauty.  The  artist  himself 
preferred  a deep-toned  picture  of  rocks  and  the  Falls 
which  he  called  the  “ brown  Niagara.”  This  paint- 
ing was  bought  after  his  death,  for  ten  thousand 
dollars,  and  presented  to  the  Hon.  John  M.  Forbes 
by  the  C.  B.  & Q.  R.  R.,  in  token  of  his  distinguished 
services  in  behalf  of  that  road.  Mr.  Forbes  had 
previously  bought  three  of  the  smaller  Niagaras  to 
add  to  his  valuable  collection  of  Hunt's  work. 

The  Niagara  paintings  were  a good  preparation  for 
what  was  to  follow,  giving  the  artist  great  breadth  of 
perception  and  handling,  and  a firm  grasp  of  the 
largest  possible  subjects. 


124  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


CHAPTER  XII 

Ideas  of  Art  Education  — Japanese  Art  — Hunt  visits 
a Studio  — A Critique  of  the  Artist — His  Idea  of 
Rembrandt  — Visit  of  a Portrait  Committee  — 
Charles  Sumner  — Working  from  Memory 

TTUNT  has  sometimes  been  severely  criticised  in 
Boston  for  leaving  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts 
to  take  care  of  itself,  or  to  be  taken  care  of  by  people 
who  had  ideas  of  art-education  that  differed  wholly 
from  his  own.  Pie  had  a definite  idea  of  what  a great, 
popular  art-school  ought  to  be.  He  proposed  a 
large,  rough,  inexpensive  building,  in  which  students 
should  come  together  to  work  under  several  leading 
artists,  — a great  atelier,  on  the  French  basis.  He 
was  sure  that  a number  of  artists  would  gladly  give 
of  their  time  a day  in  each  week,  and  do  it  without 
pay.  There  should  be  no  academic  teaching,  and 
the  pupils  would  find  what  they  wanted  in  the  in- 
spiration and  help  of  one  or  another  of  these  artists. 
Individuality  would  be  encouraged,  and  there  would 
be  no  dull  routine  of  school  work. 

When  Hunt  first  returned  to  America,  it  was  pro- 
posed by  his  brother,  Richard,  the  architect,  that 
they  both  should  start,  in  New  York  city,  a school  of 
architecture  and  painting.  Had  this  been  done,  the 


IDEAS  OF  ART  EDUCATION 


”5 


artist  would  have  had  an  opportunity  to  establish  the 
kind  of  art-school  which  he  longed  to  see  in  his  own 
country,  — a desire  which  grew  from  his  knowledge  of 
art  and  schools  the  world  over.  Nothing  but  the  best 
was  good  enough  for  his  native  country.  He  had 
learned  what  to  follow,  what  to  avoid,  and  only 
wished  for  an  opportunity  to  make  use  of  his  experi- 
ence, here  in  his  own  land. 

The  proposed  art-school  never  took  shape,  as  Mr. 
Hunt  the  architect  began  to  have  commissions  which 
engrossed  his  entire  attention.  With  the  artist- 
brother  the  plan  was  always  present.  He  was  con- 
stantly receiving  letters,  from  the  West  especially, 
asking:  — 

“ Where  should  an  art-student  go  for  instruction?  ” 

Where  could  he  send  these  students?  He  said 
more  than  once  that  he  had  half  a mind  to  take  an 
entire  side  of  one  of  the  Boston  dailies  and  publish 
all  these  letters,  that  people  might  understand  what  a 
call  there  was  for  really  good  art-instruction,  — a 
call  not  met  at  that  time  by  any  American  academy 
or  school. 

Since  those  days  a great  change  has  come  over  the 
art-schools  of  the  country.  They  are  less  academic, 
they  are  controlled  more  by  practical  artists,  and 
only  those  are  successful  which  recognize  the  needs 
of  young  students  of  painting.  Mechanical  drawing 
has  found  its  proper  place,  and  the  art-schools  are, 
generally  speaking,  intended  for  the  training  and 


126  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


encouragement  of  artists ; not,  as  has  been  said,  “ for 
their  suppression.” 

Hunt  was  far-sighted.  He  foresaw  exactly  what 
the  country  needed ; but  his  advice  was  not  asked, 
and  it  has  taken  many  years  to  bring  our  schools  of 
painting  to  a point  of  excellence  which  might  have 
been  reached  long  ago  had  his  definite  and  modern 
ideas  been  considered. 

We  plume  ourselves  on  our  love  for  Japanese  art, 
and  consider  that  we  of  later  times  are  entitled  to 
credit  for  discovering  its  excellence.  Over  forty  years 
ago  the  first  Japanese  picture-book  came  to  Boston, 
and  was  bought  of  a shipwrecked  sailor  by  Mr. 
Edward  C.  Cabot,  an  architect  and  water-color 
painter.  His  room  in  the  Studio  Building  was  the 
scene  of  many  a symposium  composed  of  the  progres- 
sive artists  of  those  days,  — Hunt,  Vedder,  Bicknell, 
La  Farge,  and  occasionally  some  other  painter  who 
understood  the  value  of  the  new  discovery.  The 
little  book  proved  to  be  a powerful  incentive  to  prog- 
ress in  the  minds  of  those  artists,  and  their  work  at 
once  began  to  wear  an  impress  of  the  new  stimulus 
which  they  had  received.  In  the  early  days  of  the 
Hunt  class,  choice  specimens  of  Japanese  art,  pur- 
chased in  New  York,  were  to  be  found  on  the  studio 
walls,  and  Hunt  continually  said  to  those  who  most 
needed  the  advice:  “Study  the  Japanese!” 

It  was  often  lamented  that  Hunt  did  not  do  as 


HUNT  VISITS  A STUDIO 


127 


much  for  young  men  students  as  he  did  for  the 
women  who  came  to  him.  He  made  several  attempts 
to  form  a class  of  young  men,  but  for  many  reasons 
the  plan  was  always  given  up.  The  young  men  did 
not  like  to  leave  their  studios,  and  he  could  not  come 
to  them.  He  enjoyed  teaching  when  pupils  were 
anxious  to  learn.  Sometimes  he  would  throw  aside 
his  brushes,  take  a brisk  walk,  and  drop  into  the 
studio  of  a friend,  always  sure  of  a hearty  welcome. 
His  ringing  voice  is  easily  recalled : — 

“ How  d’ye  do?  What's  the  good  word?  Paint- 
ing a portrait?  Well,  it  is  one  of  the  hardest  things 
in  the  world;  takes  the  very  life  out  of  you.  That's 
why  I 've  run  away  from  my  own  work.  Bothers 
you?  Let  me  sit  there  a moment.  Good  color, 
values  all  right;  but  it  is  a little  ‘out'  in  the  move- 
ment. Take  a plumb-line,  hold  it  up  fearlessly,  and 
make  your  corrections  with  decision.  Don’t  be 
afraid  of  it ! Dare  to  put  in  a firm  line,  if  you  feel 
the  need  of  it,  and  then  work  up  to  it.  Don’t  get 
too  anxious  about  the  likeness ! At  the  same  time, 
you  must  get  it ! and  you  7nust  rit  lose  it ! Queer  old 
thing,  — painting  is  ; but  we  would  rather  die  doing 
it,  than  live  doing  anything  else.  There  ! now  go  on 
with  it,  and  if  you  find  yourself  going  wrong,  lay 
aside  your  palette  and  go  off  on  the  Common  for 
a walk.  Your  sitter  won't  mind  a respite,  and  you 
will  both  be  fresher  for  the  work.  Good-bye : 
I 'm  going  back  now  to  my  own  painting,  and  it 


128  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


will  go  the  better  for  my  coming  over  here  to  scold 
you.” 

How  the  atmosphere  freshened  after  one  of  his 
electrical  visits  ! Everything  seemed  possible.  How 
different  in  these  later  days  when  nearly  every  artist 
is  for  himself,  first  of  all,  and  teaching  and  encour- 
agement have  become  a matter  of  dollars  and  cents ! 

Enough  could  hardly  be  said  of  the  camaraderie 
which  existed  always  between  Hunt  and  his  pupils, — 
“ that  high,  spiritual  atmosphere  of  art  which  never 
differentiates  between  a man  and  a woman. ” Not 
until  he  was  gone  did  they  fully  realize  what  it 
meant  for  them. 

A friend  of  Hunt  says : — 

“ There  have  been  great  painters  ; but  few  have  touched 
the  chords  by  which  art  lives,  moves,  and  has  its  being. 
. . . The  development  of  art  is  always  characterized  by 
two  elements.  First,  Feeling;  without  which  there  is  no 
art,  although  all  the  other  elements  may  exist  in  perfection. 
Secondly,  a clear  understanding  of  the  subject  treated. 
Ancient  art  had  these,  and  is  therefore  valued.  Its  works 
are  placed  before  the  student  as  precious  examples  of  study 
and  delight,  as  old-time  evidences  of  eternal  youth  in  art ; 
as  proofs  that  there  are  certain  facts  that  neither  fashion 
nor  whim,  revolutions  nor  changing  civilizations  can  disturb. 
They  are  truly  of  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever.  Centu- 
ries give  them  neither  dignity  nor  value.  They  are  simply 
harmonious  expressions  of  love,  truth,  and  intelligence, 
worked  out  in  form  or  color. 


A CRITIQUE  OF  THE  ARTIST 


129 


“ In  this  country  there  has  been  too  much  indifference 
to  the  poetic,  the  ideal,  the  living  elements  of  war,  victory, 
peace,  and  martyrdom.  Hunt  felt  this,  and  he  knew  that, 
by  force  of  circumstances,  his  art-life  was  a restriction. 
He  groaned  over  it,  and  worked  perhaps  with  the  more 
savage  intensity  because  he  knew  this  thing. 

“ He  portrayed  humanity,  its  sympathies  and  affections, 
as  no  other  artist  in  this  country  has  done.  Who  has 
painted  so  many  noble  types  in  a manner  so  sympathetic  ? 
His  portraits  of  Mrs.  Charles  Francis  Adams,  of  Mrs. 
Samuel  G.  Ward,  of  Miss  Brown,  Mr.  Wardner,  Mr.  W.  M. 
Evarts;  of  Judge  Shaw,  Mr.  Gardner,  Mr.  Schlesinger, — 
these,  with  all  of  his  children's  pictures,  have  a purity  of 
characterization  and  of  composition  which  is  unrivalled. 

“ He  was  a phenomenon  in  the  development  of  art.  No 
country,  in  its  early  stages,  has  ever  offered  an  artist  who 
possessed  such  actualities  and  such  possibilities ; whose 
work  is  so  valuable  for  inspiration  and  instruction,  and  so 
marvellous  when  we  take  into  consideration  the  circum- 
stances in  which  he  lived  and  worked. 

“To  the  artist  he  is  inspiring  and  astonishing.  To  the 
student  of  human  nature,  his  life  is  replete  with  interest* 
He  did  not  stop  to  ask : c What  will  the  world  say  of 
this  ? * 

“He  dashed  on,  satisfied  to  express  what  was  in  his 
mind. 

“ His  impressions  were  strong  enough  to  become  prin- 
ciples. In  them  he  had  the  firmest  faith.  He  spoke  and 
thought  for  himself.  Like  all  great  men,  he  had  a marvel- 
lous insight. 

“ This  enabled  him  to  get  a world  of  good  out  of  the 
works  of  the  great  masters,  and  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  his 


9 


1 3o  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


own  subjects.  Every  painting  by  Hunt  shows  that  he 
went  through  the  principal  elements  of  a picture.  He  saw 
at  once  the  vital  aspect  of  a subject.  His  work  had  great 
variety  and  versatility,  and  showed  that  he  had  the  power 
of  approaching  a subject  in  a grand  way. 

“ With  Barye  and  with  Millet  there  was  such  a grave  con- 
sciousness of  living,  such  a weighty  reception  of  art,  that  he 
went  to  them  as  he  would  go  to  Michael  Angelo,  — sources 
of  austere  encouragement  and  information.  They  were 
anchorites  and  sages ; he  was  a wizard.  They  were  com- 
positions : he,  light  and  free.  They  understood  him ; and 
he  knew  it. 

“ I have  often  thought  that,  in  the  uneasy,  hungry,  dra- 
matic life  which  Hunt  led  in  America,  — a life  of  which  he 
would  sometimes  speak  with  great  sadness,  — he  called  on 
the  memory  of  these  men  for  comfort,  with  a seriousness  of 
which  he  was  quite  unconscious.” 

Although  he  deeply  felt  the  change  in  his  art  sur- 
roundings,— the  change  from  Paris  to  Boston  by  which 
he  was  deprived  of  all  facilities  for  producing  impor- 
tant compositions,  and  of  having  inspiring  intercourse 
with  distinguished  artists,  to  say  nothing  of  the  loss 
of  his  constant  study  of  the  old  masters,  — by  the 
courageous  use  of  his  own  resources,  he  was  ^ble 
not  only  to  hold  fast  to  his  integrity,  but  to  make 
great  progress  in  his  art.  Had  he  lived  but  a few 
years  longer  he  would  have  been  the  leader  of  the 
recent  revolution  in  the  painting  of  landscape,  in 
the  effort  to  obtain  effects  that  had  hitherto  been 
considered  impossible. 


VISIT  OF  A PORTRAIT  COMMITTEE  131 


Of  Rembrandt,  Hunt  said  : — 

“ He  was  not  simply  a Dutchman.  He  painted 
as  Shakespeare  wrote,  — for  the  world.  When  asked 
his  authority  for  painting  armor  and  rich  stuff's,  he 
replied : — 

“ ‘ The  things  that  I like  are  my  authority.  The 
things  which  I paint  belong  to  the  whole  world/  ” 

Of  Teniers  and  Ostade  he  said  that  they  were  local. 

There  was  a certain  class  of  people,  — amateurs 
and  connoisseurs  of  art,  whom  Hunt  despised  beyond 
measure.  While  he  was  painting  the  portrait  of 
Hon.  Charles  Sumner,  one  of  the  committee  charged 
with  obtaining  the  portrait  came  to  see  the  picture. 
Feeling  some  doubt  of  the  absolute  correctness  of 
the  likeness,  he  took  up  a pair  of  calipers,  and  began 
to  measure  the  photograph  from  which  the  portrait 
had  to  be  painted,  comparing  its  measurements  with 
the  painting.  Hunt  was  so  surprised  and  amazed 
at  the  impertinence  that  he  exclaimed : — 

“ Is  your  knowledge  of  art  limited  to  what  a pair 
of  calipers  can  measure?  Is  Sumner’s  character 
confined  to  his  nose?  You  need  not  do  any  meas- 
uring in  my  studio  ! ” 

Hunt  did  not  like  Sumner’s  personality,  and  for  this 
reason  he  did  not  wish  to  paint  him.  It  is  under- 
stood that  the  portrait  was  to  be  presented  to  the 
Hon.  Carl  Schurz ; but  the  committee  who  engaged 


132  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


Hunt  to  paint  it  were  not  satisfied,  and  the  artist’s 
bill  was  never  presented.  It  gave  Hunt’s  idea  of 
Sumner,  presenting  fully  his  strong  and  aggressive 
qualities.  When  exhibited  in  London,  in  1 88 1 , it  was 
much  liked  by  the  English  artists  and  the  general 
public,  who  counted  it  one  of  the  finest  of  Hunt’s  por- 
traits. The  late  Sir  John  Everett  Millais  expressed 
himself  strongly  in  commendation  of  its  merits. 

Tom  Robinson  once  said  to  Hunt : — 

“ In  the  days  of  Velasquez,  and  the  other  great 
fellows,  there  were  better-looking  men  to  paint  than 
now.” 

“No,”  said  Hunt;  “if  you  had  photographs  of  the 
old  fellows  they  painted  you  would  find  that  they 
were  no  better  than  the  men  of  this  time.  It  depends 
upon  who  looks  at  them.  Could  we  look  with  the 
eyes  of  a Rembrandt  or  a Velasquez,  we  should 
have  no  lack  of  fine  subjects.” 

Speaking  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  Robinson  said 
that  he  could  not  understand  his  fascination.  He 
had  regarded  him  as  a scourge.  Hunt  replied : — 

“ Napoleon  was  able  to  make  the  Frenchman  more 
of  a Frenchman  than  he  had  ever  been  before. 
He  finished  him  off.” 

Robinson  had  painted  a fine  Head  of  a Bull , and 
had  sold  it  for  a hundred  dollars.  A bystander 
inquired : — 


ANECDOTES 


133 


“ Why  don’t  you  paint  a thousand  of  them?  ” 

“ Yes,”  said  Hunt,  “ and  sell  them  for  seventy-five 
cents  apiece.” 

Hunt  had,  at  one  time,  an  Irishman  to  take  care 
of  his  studio,  a man  who  took  every  opportunity 
to  watch  the  painter  while  at  work.  One  morning 
some  of  the  brushes  and  paints  were  missing,  and 
the  man  confessed  that  he  had  carried  them  home  in 
order  to  paint  portraits  of  his  wife  and  two  children. 
Hunt  asked  him  to  bring  the  work  for  him  to  see, 
and  declared  that  they  were  “ not  so  bad.”  Talking 
with  the  man  about  the  chances  of  his  success,  he 
said : — 

“ You  may  get  your  living  by  it  and  you  may  not.” 

“ I ’m  not  going  to  get  my  living  by  painting 
portraits,”  said  the  man.  “It’s  too  d — d hard 
work.” 

A number  of  Hunt’s  pupils  were  discussing  the 
ease  with  which  he  would  “ tack,”  as  he  expressed 
it,  and  give  to  a pupil  advice  which  was  wholly  con- 
trary to  that  which  he  might  have  given  her  the  day 
before.  One  of  his  wittiest  pupils  capped  the  climax 
by  exclaiming:  — 

“ Oh,  Consistency  ! Thy  name  is  not  Hunt ! ” 

Some  one  spoke  of  care  in  painting. 

“Yes,  yes,”  said  Hunt,  “care,  care,  care  killed 
a cat  once.” 


134  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


He  had  a genial,  playful  nature,  allied  to  great 
mental  and  moral  qualities  of  the  most  serious  kind. 
Like  Abraham  Lincolm,  he  could  unbend  from  his 
accustomed  dignity,  and  play  like  a child. 

While  at  Fayal,  he  was  visiting  one  evening  at  the 
home  of  Consul  Dabney.  One  of  the  ladies  of  the 
family  sat  knitting  a pair  of  hose.  A sudden  idea 
seized  upon  Hunt.  He  begged  for  one  of  the  stock- 
ings, drew  it  over  his  arm,  called  for  another  for  the 
other  arm,  tied  a full  white  skirt  around  his  neck, 
fitted  a pair  of  slippers  over  his  hands,  arranged  a 
dark  background,  stood  in  front  of  it,  behind  a large 
table,  put  on  a mask,  and,  with  his  slippered  hands, 
danced  upon  the  table,  going  through  with  all  the 
steps  and  movements  of  an  accomplished  dancer. 
This  graceful  and  ingenious  feat  was  afterwards  re- 
hearsed in  Boston  in  one  of  those  inimitable  evening 
entertainments  which  were  given  in  his  Summer 
Street  studio,  and  to  which  the  beauty,  wit,  and  intel- 
lect of  Boston  were  summoned  as  to  a rare  feast. 

In  later  years,  after  a life  of  disappointment  and 
care,  he  found,  in  his  Magnolia  studio,  an  outlet  for 
the  joyousness  which  would  at  times  bubble  over,  to 
the  delight  of  strangers  as  well  as  friends.  There  is 
a tradition  extant  of  a Christmas  excursion  to  Willow 
Cottage,  Magnolia,  of  a house-opening  and  warming 
for  Hunt  and  some  of  his  friends.  As  the  little 
party  gathered  in  the  dining-room,  it  was  startled  by 
an  unwonted  clatter  in  the  rooms  overhead.  Bang, 


ANECDOTES 


135 


bang,  down  the  stairs,  came  the  noise  of  a huge  pair 
of  sabots  which  little  foretold  the  gray  beard  and 
laughing  blue  eyes  which  appeared  as  Hunt  opened 
the  door  that  led  to  the  dining-room,  greatly  enjoy- 
ing the  appreciation  with  which  his  little  game  was 
received. 

“ As  if  the  Greeks  did  n’t  frivvle  ! ” he  would  some- 
times say. 

Hearing  one  day  of  a poor  artist  who  was  ill  and  in 
danger  of  being  turned  out  from  his  lodgings,  he  made 
him  a hurried  visit,  although  he  had  an  engagement 
out  of  town  which  demanded  immediate  attention. 

“ I will  have  everything  paid,”  he  whispered. 
“ Rest  easy  till  I come  back,  and  we  ’ll  see  what  can 
be  done  for  you.” 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  he  kept  his  word. 

President  John  Quincy  Adams  once  asserted  that 
he  “ would  not  give  fifty  cents  for  all  the  works  of 
Phidias  or  Praxiteles ; ” adding,  that  he  “ hoped  that 
America  would  not  think  of  sculpture  for  two  cen- 
turies to  come.”  On  hearing  of  this,  Hunt  dryly 
inquired : — 

“ Does  that  sum  of  money  really  represent  Mr. 
Adams’  estimate  of  the  sculpture  of  those  artists,  or 
the  value  which  he  placed  upon  fifty  cents  ? ” 

Driving  through  a New  England  town  with  a 
friend,  he  stopped  at  a watering-trough  to  let  the 


1 36  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


horse  drink.  Of  a countryman  who  was  passing  by 
they  inquired  in  regard  to  the  number  of  inhabitants 
in  the  town. 

“ A short  time  ago,”  said  the  man,  “ there  were 
eleven  thousand ; but  now  there  are  not  more  than 
ten.” 

“ Good  Heavens  ! ” said  Hunt,  “ Let ’s  go.  This 
town  is  struggling  for  existence ; and  the  sooner  we 
get  out  of  it,  the  better.” 

Entering  his  class-room  one  day,  Hunt  found  that 
one  of  the  pupils  had  made  a quick  and  clever  sketch 
of  a young  lady  who  was  posing.  He  commended 
the  work  highly,  and  said : — 

“ Miss has  promised  to  make  a sketch  like 

that  every  day ; and  it ’s  what  you  all  ought  to  do.” 

“ But,”  said  one,  “ it  would  take  so  many  canvases  ! 
and  they  cost  so  much  ! What  shall  we  do  ? ” 

“Well,  I can  give  you  some  of  mine.  But,  seri- 
ously, you  must  make  a great  many  of  these  sketches, 
life-size,  and  pile  them  up  ; and  remember  that  you 
can’t  arrive  at  anything  good  except  by  making  a 
great  many  good  things.” 

He  had  little  patience  with  people  who  believed  that 
artistic  excellence  consisted  chiefly  in  minute  atten- 
tion to  detail.  A friend  who  met  him  soon  after  the 
completion  of  the  Albany  work  congratulated  him 
on  having  had,  at  last,  a subject  worthy  of  his 
powers. 


WORKING  FROM  MEMORY 


137 


"Well,”  said  Hunt,  with  a gravely  humorous  air, 
" it  is  better  than  staying  at  home  and  fumbling  for 
two  or  three  years  over  a button.” 

Emerson  once  said : “ A strong  impression  gives 
the  power  to  paint  it.”  Hunt  had  great  power  of 
working  from  memory.  In  portrait  painting  this 
served  him  a good  turn,  for  after  his  sitter  had  left, 
and  he  had  returned  from  his  luncheon,  he  saw  with 
clear,  frank  gaze  wherein  his  work  might  be  im- 
proved, sometimes  in  the  direction  of  likeness,  oftener 
in  that  difficult  combination  of  likeness  and  artistic 
quality.  In  landscape  painting  his  facility  in  working 
from  memory  was  of  the  utmost  importance.  He 
received  at  once  a strong  impression  of  his  subject, 
fastened  it  in  his  memory,  and  endeavored  to  hold 
fast  to  that  as  his  guide,  omitting  any  details  that 
might  weaken  its  strength.  He  believed  in  painting 
his  impressions,  and  little  guessed  what  the  word 
would  come  to  mean  in  a few  short  years.  Had  he 
lived  in  the  later  years  of  Monet  and  his  disciples,  he 
would  have  entered  heartily  into  their  aims,  gathered 
from  them  ideas  of  color-vibration,  waved  a hearty 
God-speed,  and  gone  on  in  his  own  way.  What  that 
way  would  have  been  there  is  no  telling ; for  Progress 
was  his  watchword,  and  every  year  his  landscape 
work  grew  in  breadth,  light,  color,  distinction. 


i38  art-life  of  william  morris  hunt 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Hunt’s  Views  on  State  Art-Education  — Lectures  on 
Art-— Art  Instruction  in  this  Country  — Hunt’s 
Knowledge  of  Form  — Values  versus  Outlines 

TTE  comprehended  fully  the  financial  value  to  a 
nation  of  a fine  system  of  art-education.  He 
wished  that  every  artist  could  have  the  best  possible 
opportunity  to  perfect  himself  in  his  art ; and  believed 
that  one  man  who  could  produce  good  work  was 
worth  more  than  hundreds  of  non-producing  ad- 
mirers. 

He  regarded  our  State  system  of  art-education  as 
calamitous.  It  might  aid  in  producing  skilled  labor; 
but  it  would  leave  false  impressions  upon  the  minds 
of  the  young  that  would  not  be  eradicated  in  less 
than  three  generations.  He  was  tireless  in  advocating 
the  adoption,  by  the  State,  of  a system  that  should  be 
recognized  by  artists  and  art-producing  peoples  as  of 
the  highest  value.  He  felt  that  unless  Massachusetts 
did  this  she  would  soon  lose  her  supremacy. 

He  was  often  entreated  to  give  lectures  on  art; 
but  never  for  a moment  listened  to  the  proposition. 
When  invited  by  a professor  in  Yale  College  to  lec- 
ture before  the  students,  he  sent  the  following  charac- 
teristic reply : — 


VIEWS  ON  STATE  ART-EDUCATION  139 


“ Dear  Sir,  — My  time  is  already  more  than  taken  up  in 
trying  to  learn  how  to  paint,  and  as  I can  get  no  informa- 
tion on  the  subject  from  lectures,  I do  not  think  that  I can 
assist  others  by  lecturing. 

“ The  world  is  full  of  people  who  lecture  on  art,  and  I 
will  not  interfere  with  them. 

“ Very  truly  yours,  W,  M.  Hunt.” 

On  this  subject  he  said : — 

“ When  an  artist  leaves  his  work  to  amuse  people, 
he  loses  his  time  and  their  respect.  If  people  are 
to  be  amused  by  artists,  it  must  be  by  employing 
them  in  their  legitimate  occupation.  Neither  poets 
or  artists  can  be  manufactured,  — hardly  can  they 
be  supported.  Only  when  an  artist  is  endowed  with 
no  tastes,  and  no  stomach,  can  he  live  and  grow  on 
compliments,  criticisms,  and  conversations. 

“ Most  of  us  have  been  so  taught  to  doubt  and  to 
question,  that  we  have  n’t  time  enough  left  in  life  to 
express  an  opinion  of  our  own.  If  I am  entitled  to 
an  opinion,  it  is  through  what  I have  done.  Work, 
not  words,  can  instruct. 

“ The  only  good  quality  in  most  lectures  on  art  is 
that  the  effect  is  not  lasting.  Taking  artists  out  of 
their  work  forces  them  to  be  toadies  and  speculators 
instead  of  workers  and  producers.  The  only  lessons 
that  poets,  painters,  sculptors,  and  architects  have 
ever  taught,  or  can  teach,  are  in  their  work.” 

At  another  time  he  was  asked  by  a club  of  ladies 
to  talk  to  them  upon  Religion  in  Art.  After  express- 


1 4o  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


ing  a little  surprise  that  the  choice  of  a subject 
should  not  have  been  left  to  him,  he  politely  declined ; 
and  then,  on  meeting  an  artist  friend,  proceeded  to 
talk  upon  the  subject  as  follows : — 

“ Religion  is  life,  reality,  deed ; not  superstition, 
dogma,  or  ritual.  Religion,  in  any  profession,  is 
doing,  with  all  manner  of  courage  and  vigor,  anything 
that  we  undertake ; producing  that  which  the  highest 
tribunal  will  call  good,  excellent,  praiseworthy.  Are 
we  interested  seriously?  or  do  we  make  believe,  do  it 
for  fun,  or  for  show,  or  to  give  a learned  recognition 
of  art?  We  think,  I believe,  that  all  we  have  to  do 
is  to  talk  about  it,  found  a school,  build  a museum ; 
— while  Art  is,  really,  Doing.  An  artist  is  one  who 
does : not  one  who  talks  or  teaches. 

“ Religion  in  art  is  doing,  for  the  work’s  sake.  It 
is  to  express  fearlessly  our  unbiassed  opinion,  our 
belief,  our  feeling,  our  faith,  — not  to  hide  it  and  do 
what  we  think  others  will  like.  It  is  to  respect  our- 
selves; and  we  can  only  respect  in  ourselves  that 
which  is  fine.  We  may  make  excuses  for  the  second- 
rate,  but  we  are  only  proud  of  the  best.” 

Of  originality  in  art  he  once  said  : — 

“We  want  to  be  original  in  art.  No  danger  of 
that ! We  cannot  be  so  if  we  would.  We  are 
neither  religious  nor  respectful  enough. 

“ Out  of  our  ‘ inner  consciousness  ’ we  propose  to 
have  a national  art.  We  shut  our  eyes,  turn  our 
backs,  and  say:  ‘We  must  be  American!’ 


LECTURES  ON  ART 


141 

“And  we  shall  be.  It  will  come  of  itself,  — the 
blessed  originality  of  American  art. 

“ If  good  art  is  produced,  take  advantage  of  the 
fact,  instead  of  inveigling  hundreds  into  an  occupa- 
tion where  not  one  in  a thousand  can  make  a living, 
unless  he  resorts  to  talking,  toadying,  and  specula- 
tions to  which  he  is  naturally  averse. 

“ If  we  want  art  let  us  respect  superiority  in  art. 
If  you  want  art,  respect  artists.  A few  capable  men, 
with  their  assistants,  employed  as  in  old  times,  would 
develop  more  good  workers  than  all  the  art-schools 
in  the  country ; and  with  this  difference : that  they 
would  produce  workers,  instead  of  theories,  systems, 
advice,  and  teachers.” 

On  another  occasion  he  writes  to  a friend : — 

“ A lecture  on  art,  like  hash,  to  be  popular  need 
not  be  nourishing.  But  it  must  be  easily  swallowed. 
It  is  well  enough  to  listen  to  lectures  to  save  yourself 
the  trouble  of  knowing  anything;  but,  if  you  want 
to  learn  anything,  you  had  better  use  your  eyes ; for 
until  some  of  the  talkers  can  produce  painting  and 
sculpture  that  will  appeal  to  the  ears,  they  can  teach 
very  little  through  that  medium. 

“ The  world  does  not  seem  to  think  that  the  art- 
critics  or  the  financiers  should  give  evidence  of  their 
practical  knowledge. 

“ The  country  is  overrun  with  teachers  of  art  and 
lecturers  on  art,  because  we  do  not  want  doers,  but 
talkers.  When  we  really  want  art,  there  will  be  a 


142  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


call  for  artists  to  paint.  Producers  will  then  be  em- 
ployed and  encouraged,  instead  of  being  squeezed 
into  the  great  mill  of  to-day  — as  mill-stones  to  grind 
up  natural,  raw  material ; not  one  kernel  in  a thou- 
sand containing  any  grit. 

“ The  world  seems  to  want  machines  with  which 
to  manufacture  artists,  poets,  statesmen,  and  philoso- 
phers ; but  when  one  of  them  exists,  neither  his  work 
nor  his  opinions  are  wanted.  If  he  be  a musician,  he 
is  invited  to  play  for  the  world  to  march  in  to  supper. 

“ If  Michael  Angelo  and  Titian  were  here  to-day, 
they  would  not  be  called  upon  to  paint.  They  would 
be  talked  to  by  the  wise,  and  told  that  the  Greeks 
were  the  producers  of  art.  Even  if  they  were  to  lec- 
ture from  Maine  to  Georgia,  artists  would  not  neces- 
sarily arise  in  their  wake.  Instead  of  being  called 
upon  to  produce  work,  as  they  have  done,  that  will 
be  a wonder  and  a monument  to  the  human  race, 
they  would  have  to  discuss  with  committees,  and  be 
voted  imbeciles. 

“ We  ignore  everything  that  exists,  and  talk  loudly 
of  what  we  are  going  to  produce.  We  do  not  even 
want  our  hens  to  lay  eggs.  We  throw  the  eggs 
away,  and  set  the  hens  on  gravel-stones,  hoping  to 
produce  wonders.  We  are  all  taught  criticism  and 
finding  fault  with  works  that  it  will  take  a good  deal 
of  teaching  to  make  us  comprehend  and  appreciate.” 

Certainly  no  American  ever  had  a clearer  idea  of 
what  ought  to  be  done  in  this  country  to  raise  the 


ART  INSTRUCTION 


*43 


standard  of  art.  Before  the  Centennial  Exposition 
at  Philadelphia,  in  1876,  there  was  very  little  public 
or  private  interest  in  the  subject.  That  occasion 
opened  the  hearts  and  minds  of  the  whole  people,  — 
but  they  had  no  idea  what  steps  to  take  to  learn 
more  of  this  new  and  beautiful  vision  which  had  flashed 
upon  them  for  a season,  only  to  vanish  to  the  old 
world  from  which  it  came.  Art-schools  began  to  be 
established  on  a somewhat  broader  and  more  general 
basis  than  that  which  had  prevailed.  The  larger 
cities  had  their  free  drawing-schools  supported  by 
funds  left  by  generous  benefactors,  but  they  were 
chiefly  mechanical  in  their  aims,  and  did  little  to 
advance  the  study  of  art. 

Hunt’s  early  love  of  sculpture,  his  remarkably 
good  anatomical  drawings  made  while  in  Dussel- 
dorf,  and  his  ability  in  figure  painting  while  in  Paris, 
all  point  to  the  success  of  his  maturer  work  in  giving 
statuesqueness  to  the  human  form.  He  knew  the 
figure  well ; how  well  few  suspected,  so  adroitly  did 
he  conceal  his  knowledge.  He  liked  rather  to  sug- 
gest form  than  to  portray  it  with  any  over-exactness. 
For  this  reason  his  first  study  for  a portrait  or  an 
ideal  figure  was  always  made  in  charcoal.  He  was  a 
believer,  first  of  all,  in  values.  Light  and  shade  must 
ring  true;  and  when  these  relations  were  rightly 
established,  all  else  followed  easily  in  their  train. 

In  his  teaching  he  never  followed  the  pedantic 
slavery  to  outline  which  even  to-day  obtains  in 


i44  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


nearly  all  schools.  How  did  the  thing  exist?  To 
him  it  was  largely  a matter  of  light  and  shade  to 
begin  with.  It  was  a dark  object  against  a light 
ground,  or  the  reverse ; and  he  began  his  drawing 
usually  as  a sculptor  would  work,  — struck  out  for 
large  planes  and  masses,  dashing  off  a superfluity 
here,  building  up  there,  where  there  was  a deficiency; 
gradually  evolving  the  perfect  form  from  the  more  or 
less  shapeless  mass. 

Every  painter  who  begins  with  outline  solely, 
keeping  to  that  throughout  his  work,  never  wholly 
recovers  from  his  slavish  devotion  to  boundary.  The 
trail  of  the  serpent  is  over  it  all,  from  first  to  last,  and 
his  bondage  to  it  is  of  life-long  duration. 

What  does  Delacroix  say?  — 

“ I am  at  my  window,  and  I see  the  most  beautiful  land- 
scape. The  idea  of  a line  never  comes  into  my  head.  The 
lark  sings,  the  river  glitters,  the  foliage  murmurs ; but  where 
are  the  ‘lines ’that  produce  these  charming  sensations? 
They  (some  people)  can  see  proportion  and  harmony 
only  between  two  lines.  The  rest  for  them  is  chaos,  and 
the  compass  only  is  judge.  Yes,  Rubens  draws,  — yes, 
Correggio  draws  ; but  neither  of  these  men  have  any  quarrel 
with  the  ideal.  Without  the  ideal  there  is  neither  painting, 
nor  drawing,  nor  colors ; and  what  is  worse  than  being 
without  it  is  to  have  that  second-hand  ideal  which  those 
people  go  to  school  to  acquire,  and  which  would  make  us 
hate  our  very  models.” 

Modelling  in  charcoal  or  in  color  was  a strong 
characteristic  of  the  French  masters  of  1830,  and  of 


ART  INSTRUCTION 


H5 


their  disciples;  but  as  each  man  died,  academic 
principles  were  more  and  more  insisted  upon  by  those 
who  had  not  come  under  their  influence.  In  1888, 
in  Paris,  one  of  the  smaller  schools  favored  a revival 
of  the  old-time  delicate  shading  by  “ cross-hatching 
and  stippling.”  M.  Puvis  de  Chavannes  was  the 
visiting  artist  of  this  class,  and  one  of  Hunt’s  pupils 
who  could  not  catch  the  trick  of  the  line-and-stipple 
touch  was  so  fortunate  as  to  get  this  commendation : 

“ I like  your  work  because  you  draw  in  light  and 
shade.” 

Artists  who  have  not  been  trained  in  that  way  from 
the  first  never  quite  reach  the  largeness  and  grandeur 
of  which  their  work  should  be  capable.  Uncon- 
sciously they  are  restrained  from  giving  their  fancy 
full  play.  Of  his  creed,  as  it  might  be  called,  Hunt 
once  gave  the  following  statement : — 

“ We  begin  with  the  study  of'  values  ’ in  order  more 
readily  to  get  the  power  of  expressing  the  roundness 
and  fulness  of  objects,  the  effect  of  light  and  shadow, 
and  the  mystery  of  distance  and  atmosphere.  The 
definiteness  of  form  and  proportion  should  be  con- 
stantly studied,  and  endless  practice  is  required  in 
order  to  obtain  such  power.  The  firmest  outline 
drawing  is  most  excellent  exercise,  but  that  alone 
will  not  suffice  to  render  the  impression  which  nature 
produces  upon  our  mind.” 

In  a few  lines  Hunt  could  express  what  another 
would  fail  to  reach  in  a thousand.  His  work  shows 


10 


x46  art-life  of  william  morris  hunt 


what  a remarkable  power  he  had  of  compressing  an 
entire  essay,  so  to  speak,  into  a single  epigrammatic 
sentence. 

He  had  essentially  the  temperament  of  genius, — 
excitable,  easily  impressed,  dissatisfied,  indefatigable. 
His  versatility  was  so  great  that  it  has  been  said : — 

“ If  he  had  not  been  a painter,  he  would  have  been  a 
musician.  If  he  had  not  been  a musician,  he  would  have 
been  a poet.  If  he  had  not  been  a poet,  he  would  have 
been  an  actor.  Probably  no  man  in  the  country  had  so 
many  ardent  friends  and  followers  of  both  sexes ; and  with 
his  pupils  his  name  was  a sort  of  war-cry.” 

The  wonder  is  not  that  he  produced  so  much  as 
that  he  produced  anything.  His  genius  was  startling. 
He  touched  the  canvas,  and  it  lived.  To  do  this 
amid  the  untow'ard  surroundings  of  his  life  was 
a miracle.  He  was  forced  to  go  to  Europe  to 
study ; and  almost  through  life  he  received  no  public 
recognition  at  home. 

Always  quick  to  see  merit  in  other  artists,  he  was 
just  as  quick  to  make  that  merit  known.  When 
Barye,  Millet,  and  Daumier  felt  that  they  were  un- 
recognized, — the  latter  selling  nothing  at  all,  — 
Hunt  said : — 

“ Daumier  is  one  of  the  great  men.  If  the  picture- 
buyers  knew  anything,  they  would  buy  every  drawing 
that  he  has.”  1 

1 Corot,  too,  had  a great  admiration  for  Daumier,  and  when  he 
heard  of  his  blindness,  presented  him  with  a house. 


HUNT'S  CHARACTERISTICS 


147 


At  a reunion  at  the  house  of  Delacroix  that 
painter  was  asked : — 

“Whom  do  you  consider  the  greatest  draughts- 
man in  the  world  ?” 

“ Daumier,”  he  replied ; “ my  friend  Daumier,  who 
sits  there  in  the  corner.,, 

Delacroix  spoke  with  convincing  earnestness. 

It  has  been  well  said  that 

“ Hunt  was  the  most  vital  element  that  has  appeared  in 
the  art  history  of  this  country.  He  saw  quickly  and  thor- 
oughly into  everything  connected  with  art.  His  apprecia- 
tion of  literature  was  as  ready  as  it  was  searching  and 
fastidious.  In  human  affairs  he  took  a large  interest,  and 
was  pretty  sure  to  see  the  best  phase  and  tendency.  His 
observations  on  all  subjects  were  virile,  forcible,  and  often 
terribly  sarcastic.  It  was  an  every-day  expression  of  those 
who  came  in  close  contact  with  him  that  he  ‘lighted  up 
everything  that  he  touched.'  His  whole  life  was  a perfect 
expression  of  his  nature.  His  youth  and  early  manhood 
were  joyous,  his  middle  life  serious  and  disturbed,  his  clos- 
ing years  sad,  and  his  end  fateful. 

“ He  aroused  antagonisms,  and  made  enemies ; but  he 
had  such  a keen  knowledge  of  the  world,  such  a capacity 
for  pleasing  when  he  chose  to  exercise  it,  that  he  neutral- 
ized opposition.  These  qualities,  united  to  a high  social 
position  and  independence  for  a time  in  money  matters, 
protected  him  from  a thousand  annoyances  that  would 
otherwise  have  been  impossible  for  him  to  endure. 

“ He  was  cosmopolitan  in  his  art.  Loved  the  best 
French,  Dutch,  Spanish  painters,  the  great  Italians,  and 
the  German,  Albert  Dtirer.  A wide  liker,  and  ready 
gleaner.  As  Shakespeare  gleaned,  so  did  Hunt." 


i48  art-life  of  william  morris  hunt 


It  is  true  that  “ he  had  a subtle  conception  of  what 
art  is : more  than  he  could  express ; ” but,  when  sure 
of  himself,  his  execution  was  dashing,  brilliant, 
decided.  Full,  too,  of  what  he  called  “the  wit  of 
painting,  ” — an  almost  scintillating  sparkle.  He  was 
not  a colorist,  like  J.  M.  W.  Turner  or  Diaz.  He 
showed  always  a searching  beneath  the  color  for 
something  which  perhaps  a colorist  might  not  see 
or  feel.  His  work  was  never  smartly  done,  never 
self-assertive.  Sometimes  it  was  simply  tentative; 
and  in  such  cases,  was  sure  to  have  a certain  naiveti 
that  was  fascinating,  — a quality  which  he  dearly 
loved  in  the  drawings  of  his  three  daughters,  all  of 
whom  were  capable  and  gifted  in  a high  degree. 
He  avoided  teaching  them,  preferring  to  let  them 
express  themselves  in  their  own  way.  He  feared, 
of  all  things,  to  quench  originality,  or  to  make  the 
worker  self-conscious.  The  same  feeling  led  him 
to  dread  the  machinery  of  the  schools.  “ They  will 
make  teachers,  — all  just  alike ; but  they  won’t  make 
artists.”  A prediction  which  some  of  our  art-schools 
are  slowly  beginning  to  see  fulfilled. 

True  artist  that  he  was,  he  was  sympathetic  in  a 
high  degree,  needing  the  sympathy  of  other  artists, 
but  rarely  receiving  it.  A few  friends  he  had,  — 
some  of  them  artists,  but  quite  as  many  who  were 
not,  — to  whom  he  could  speak  freely  of  his  work, 
his  doubts  and  fears,  as  well  as  his  hopes  and 
successes.  He  regarded  the  art-sentiment  as  all- 


HUNT’S  CHARACTERISTICS 


149 


essential;  and  would  say,  sometimes,  with  intense 
seriousness : — 

“ Painting,  only,  is  worth  the  while.” 

Throughout  his  life  he  held  firm  and  gentle  sway. 
From  the  first  he  contended  for  just  the  qualities 
which  are  to  be  found  in  the  best  modern  work,  — 
great  simplicity  and  breadth  of  execution ; truth  of 
values,  and  force  of  idea. 

Humanity  was  the  song  he  sang,  and  he  sang  it 
in  all  its  keys ; — from  the  minor  of  the  poor  and 
lowly  to  the  splendid  major  chords  of  dignity,  power, 
and  high  success.  He  worked  with  feeling  as  tender 
as  that  of  Robert  Burns ; and  was,  at  the  same  time, 
an  intellectual  painter,  bringing  to  mind  Da  Vinci, 
Michel  Angelo,  and  others  no  less  great.  All  this 
with  the  modesty  that  accompanies  greatness. 

He  belonged  to  his  own  day  and  generation,  and 
was  human  and  sympathetic.  His  subjects  appealed 
to  all.  A week  before  his  death,  he  said  to  Tom 
Robinson : — 

“ Well,  there  is  one  thing  they  can  say  of  me : 
that  I have  seen  something  of  what  has  been  going 
on  around  me.” 

This  was  in  reply  to  a remark  of  Robinson’s,  that 
“Washington  Allston  was  not  identified  with  the 
time  in  which  he  lived.” 

A sculptor  friend  of  Hunt  declared  him  to  be  “ a 
pure  antique,  out  of  the  heart  of  the  New  World.” 


150  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


He  adds : — 

“ He  was  the  most  impressive  figure  in  American 
art.  A constellation  of  light  and  warmth,  — his 
works  are  the  epitome  of  himself.” 

He  was  an  Orientalist  in  thought  and  imagination. 
In  early  life,  while  studying  in  Paris,  he  was  much 
impressed  by  attending  a course  of  lectures  on  ori- 
ental literature;  and  in  after  life,  when  refusing  to 
follow  the  mandates  of  occidental  custom  and  thought, 
he  would  exclaim : — 

“ I can’t  help  thinking  how  such  an  idea  would  be 
regarded  in  the  East.” 

Intensely  American  as  he  was,  he  yet  refused  to 
measure  everything  by  our  standard.  His  sympa- 
thies extended  from  the  highly  cultured  scholar  of 
the  East  to  the  poorest  inhabitant  of  an  African  wild. 
He  loved  to  think  of  the  fiery  Arab  on  his  steed,  but 
he  turned  just  as  willingly  to  help  an  old  woman 
carry  her  barrel  of  ashes  down  the  stairs  of  a prosaic 
business  block. 

He  was  a close,  clear  thinker,  going  at  once  to  the 
heart  of  things.  No  externals  could  possibly  deceive 
him.  He  hated  smartness  and  conceit,  and  despised 
bombast.  The  frank  simplicity  of  innocence  charmed 
him,  and  his  portraits  of  children  and  young  girls 
are  unique.  He  enjoyed  painting  many  of  his  sitters, 
while  others  were  never  bidden  to  come  for  a second 
pose. 

He  read  at  once  people  who  were  in  the  humbler 


HUNT'S  INSIGHT 


151 

walks  of  life.  While  staying  in  the  country  for  a 
few  weeks  he  had  engaged  a livery-stable  keeper  to 
board  and  care  for  a favorite  horse  which  he  was 
using  daily.  Paying  his  bill  promptly  as  soon  as 
the  week  was  ended,  he  was  surprised  to  find  that 
the  horse  was  receiving,  each  week,  less  care  than 
was  his  due. 

“ I have  it ! ” Hunt  exclaimed,  “ that  man  is  too 
sure  of  his  money ! Instead  of  paying  him  when 
the  week  is  up,  I am  going  to  ask  him  if  he  would 
mind  waiting  for  a week  or  more.  It ’s  a bother,  for 
I like  to  pay  a bill  as  soon  as  it  is  due ; but  it  is  not 
always  wise.  I remember  finding  that  out  when  I 
used  to  pay  for  the  family  butter  as  soon  as  it  was 
brought.  I took  care  to  have  the  right  amount  at 
hand,  and  gave  it  to  the  dairyman  myself;  but  I 
never  shall  forget  his  expression  when  I did  it.  He 
would  look  longingly  at  the  butter,  and  disdainfully 
at  the  bank  bills,  as  much  as  to  say : — 

Money  comes  pretty  easy  to  you,  hey?  I know 
the  work  that  butter  has  cost,  and  here  you  hand  out 
a roll  of  bills  as  if  they  were  nothing  to  you/  After 
that  I bothered  myself  to  keep  in  his  debt,  and  he 
brought  the  butter  with  a more  cheerful  air,  as  if  it 
pleased  him  to  have  a chance  to  do  me  a favor. 

“Just  so  with  the  stable-keeper.  Since  he  is  not 
quite  sure  of  getting  his  money  he  takes  excellent 
care  of  the  horse,  and  I have  no  complaint  to 
make.” 


152  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


The  majority  of  people  did  not  understand  Hunt’s 
work.  A picture  painted  while  under  the  influence 
of  Millet,  and  almost  worthy  of  that  master,  was  sent 
to  a lady  as  a wedding  gift.  So  little  was  it  appre- 
ciated that  it  was  not  acknowledged.  A few  years 
later  it  found  its  way  into  a sale  in  one  of  the  picture 
galleries,  and  was  purchased  by  a friend  of  the  artist 
for  $800. 

During  the  war,  while  occupying  a room  in  the 
Studio  Building,  he  offered  two  exquisite  pictures, 
The  Listeners  and  The  Singers , for  $300. 

The  year  before  his  death  he  would  gladly  have 
sold  his  North  Easton  picture,  Spring  Chickens , for 
$500.  The  year  after  it  was  worth  $5000. 

His  first  drawing,  done  with  a free  hand,  — and 
still  extant,  — portrays  a little  vessel  upon  the 
water.  By  a singular  coincidence,  his  last  drawing, 
made  a day  or  two  before  his  death,  also  portrays 
the  faint  outline  of  some  little  craft  at  rest  upon 
the  sea. 

When  speaking  of  the  recognition  of  ordinary 
painters,  Couture  once  said : “ They  think  so  much 
of  methods ! ” Two  of  these  artists  came  in  to  see 
his  work,  one  day  when  he  was  absent.  They  were 
trying  to  find  out  how  it  was  done.  As  they  were 
wondering  over  it,  Couture  came  shuffling  along, 
when  they  instantly  became  silent,  and  showed  no 
more  interest  in  the  work. 


ANECDOTES 


i53 


When  Couture’s  Savoyard  at  Prayer  before  a Cross 
was  exhibited  in  Paris,  it  was  placed  between  two 
pictures  by  well-known  artists.  As  the  painter  came 
in  to  look  at  his  picture,  he  met  two  other  artists,  who 
began  to  compliment  the  other  pictures : — 

“ That ’s  a good  Rousseau  ! Here ’s  a good  Dupre ! ” 
But  no  notice  of  the  Couture.  Finally  he  called 
their  attention  to  it.  They  looked  — that  way ; but, 
out  into  space. 

“ I went  home  with  a chill,”  said  Couture ; “ but 
when  it  was  sold  in  America,  for  a large  price,  then 
I felt  warm.” 

At  the  time  that  the  Boston  Art-Museum  was 
about  to  be  started,  the  boy  who  worked  for  Hunt 
came  into  the  studio  one  morning  exclaiming  with 
great  glee : — 

“ Oh,  Mr.  Hunt ! Boston  is  going  to  have  an  Art- 
Museum,  and  a school  where  I can  go  and  study, 
and  you  can  have  a chance,  too.” 

“ Who  is  going  to  do  all  this  ? ” 

The  boy  gave  the  names  with  enthusiasm.  Hunt 
repeated  them  with  great  deliberation,  adding:  — 

“ They  are  going  to  build  an  Art-Museum  and  to 
have  an  art-school,  are  they?  Not  by  a long  sight! 
They  are  going  to  build  a mausoleum  to  themselves.” 

Said  a pupil  to  Hunt:  — “I  went  abroad  and 
painted  all  day,  for  seven  years,  from  early  morning 
until  dark,  and  then  lost  my  health.” 


154  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“ And  now,”  he  replied,  “ you  had  better  go  and 
sit  down  under  a pine-tree  for  seven  years,  and  say 
‘ What  a fool ! what  a fool ! ’ ” 

Of  some  pupils  who  returned  to  his  class  for  a 
second  term,  he  inquired : — 

“ Why  did  n’t  you  learn  to  paint  last  year?  ” 

He  had  many  professional  intimacies.  He  en- 
joyed studying  people  connected  with  his  profession, 
though  he  made  few  confidants  because  he  had  a 
high  standard  of  judgment  of  what  an  artist  and  a 
man  should  be.  In  order  to  find  out  people  he  had 
several  simple  tests.  One  of  them  was  to  show  a 
collection  of  photographs  from  his  work,  and  to  say : 

“ If  you  like  any  of  those  take  them  along.” 

He  had  complimented  Mrs.  Noa,  the  pastel  artist, 
on  her  success  with  a difficult  portrait,  and  had 
asked  her  to  call,  with  his  sister,  whom  she  knew. 
Arrived  at  the  studio  he  filled  her  lap  with  photo- 
graphs from  his  work  which  she  examined  with 
heartfelt  admiration. 

“ Take  them  along  with  you  ! ” said  Hunt. 

“ Oh,  no  indeed  ! Just  write  your  autograph  upon 
one,  if  you  please,  and  that  will  be  quite  enough.” 

The  lady  departed  with  three  or  four  photographs, 
on  one  of  which  was  the  coveted  autograph. 

For  a time,  Hunt  had  full  swing  in  Boston,  and 
his  influence  was  great.  With  the  founding  of  art- 


STATE  ART  EDUCATION 


155 


schools,  clubs,  etc.,  another  element  came  in, — 
somewhat  pedantic,  a little  dogmatic,  and  extremely 
conservative.  It  was  considered  safe  to  copy  the 
methods  of  England  and  of  Germany.  They  were 
time-honored,  and  seemed  to  produce  some  results, 
— not  great  in  an  artistic  point  of  view,  but  supposed 
to  be  suited  to  the  needs  of  a new  country,  awaken- 
ing, for  the  first  time,  to  a sense  of  the  importance  of 
paying  some  attention  to  the  demands  of  industrial  art. 

When  art-education  was  adopted  by  the  State,  no 
movement  was  taken  to  learn  Hunt’s  views  upon  the 
subject.  At  a dinner  given  to  the  State  art-director, 
Walter  Smith,  an  Englishman  chosen  for  his  Kensing- 
ton ideas,  this  gentleman  turned  towards  Hunt  and 
said : — 

“ I do  not  regard  it  necessary  to  be  an  artist  in 
order  to  teach  art.” 

Hunt  did  regard  it  as  necessary  that  artists  should 
teach  art;  and  for  this  opinion  he  was  thrust  out 
of  a movement  which,  properly  considered,  he  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  most  vital  importance. 

One  of  his  artist  friends,  a man  who  has  seen  much 
of  the  best  art  of  the  world,  says : — 

“ When  I say  that  Hunt  was  a decorative  artist  in  a large 
sense,  I point  to  his  works  as  evidence  of  this.  What  are 
their  qualities?  Few  portrait-painters  have  ever  lived  who 
have  so  grandly  comprehended  the  composition  of  a single 
figure,  and  executed  it  so  well.  His  insight  into  its  possi- 
bilities, and  his  power  to  express  that  insight,  are  one  of 


156  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


the  great  qualities  of  a composer.  Once  conceived,  they 
are  drawn  with  the  power,  largeness,  and  delicacy  of  a 
great  master.  The  composition  of  a single  figure  is  one 
of  the  most  difficult  problems  in  art.  It  must  give  full 
expression  to  its  leading  characteristics  without  the  assist- 
ance of  any  unessential  form  or  object.  The  Greek  por- 
trait-statues of  Demosthenes,  of  Sophocles,  the  statue  of 
Donatello’s  St.  George,  and  many  of  the  French  statues 
are  perfectly  composed  single  figures.” 

To  an  advanced  pupil  who  asked  of  him  the  favor 
of  a criticism,  he  replied : — 

“I  want  you  now  to  have  more  precision.  You 
paint  well  in  what  we  call  ‘ loose  handling,’  but  you 
must  be  able  to  combine  the  two.  Velasquez,  and 
Millet  too,  could  do  it.  You  want  to  be  able  to  put 
in  one  hard  correct  thing,  whether  you  do  it  or  not. 
Otherwise  your  work  will  be  too  soft  and  intangible. 

“ It  is  well  to  put  in  your  painting  loosely,  and 
colored.  Then  correct  it  with  a line,  where  needed, 
as  you  do  in  a charcoal  drawing.  You  want  to  see 
the  admirable  beauty  of  certain  lines.  Painting  is 
the  reconciling  of  the  two  ways  of  working.  In 
drawing  figures  you  must  be  careful  to  have  things 
right.  If  you  are  at  work  upon  a group,  be  sure 
to  paint  one  figure  as  carefully  as  you  would  draw 
it.  The  rest  of  the  picture  can  be  done  as  loosely  as 
you  like.” 

This,  after  Hunt’s  success  in  Albany,  was  held  to 
be  of  peculiar  value,  as  illustrative  of  his  latest  ideas 
of  technique  in  painting. 


COMMISSION  FOR  TWO  MURAL  PAINTINGS  157 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Hunt  Receives  a Commission  for  Two  Large  Mural 
Paintings,  1875  — Letter  from  Mr.  Eidlitz  — Sub- 
jects of  Paintings  : Columbus,  The  Discoverer  ; and 
Anahita,  The  Flight  of  Night  — Description  of  the 
Compositions  — Preliminary  Studies  and  Work  — 
Goes  to  Albany- — Life  and  Work  while  there  — 
Letter  from  Miss  Hunt  — Other  Letters 

T T 7HILE  at  work  on  subjects  at  Niagara,  he  re- 
* * ceived  from  Lieutenant-Governor  Dorsheimer 
of  New  York  a commission  to  furnish  two  large  mural 
decorations  for  the  Assembly  Chamber  of  the  new 
Capitol  building  at  Albany.  He  hesitated  at  first, 
feeling  that  he  was  physically  unable  to  do  it.  The 
thought  also  came  to  him  that  he  had  not  received 
the  training  requisite  for  such  a work.  Lieutenant- 
Governor  Dorsheimer  was  warmly  seconded  in  his 
request  by  the  architects  of  the  Capitol,  Messrs. 
Leopold  Eidlitz  and  H.  H.  Richardson;  and  Hunt's 
brother  Richard  of  New  York  urged  him  most  warmly 
to  accept  the  commission,  reminding  him  of  his  life- 
long desire  to  paint  a large  picture  embodying  his 
conception  of  the  Coming  of  Light. 

Hunt  was  fifty-four  years  of  age.  He  had  keenly 
felt  that  he  would  never  have  an  opportunity  to 


158  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


realize  this  dream  of  his  life,  when  the  following 
letter  came,  like  a message  from  heaven,  an  answer 
to  a long  and  weary  waiting : — 

“New  York,  June  1,  1878. 

“ Mr.  W.  M.  Hunt  : 

“ My  dear  Sir,  — It  is  proposed  to  have  some  allegor- 
ical or  legendary  paintings  in  the  Assembly  Chamber  of  the 
new  Capitol  at  Albany.  Lieutenant-Governor  Dorsheimer 
thinks  that  you  would  be  willing  to  give  us  some  advice,  — 
perhaps  personal  assistance  in  the  matter ; and  requests  that 
you  will  call  at  my  office  to  examine  a sketch  indicating  the 
work  to  be  done,  with  a view  to  a proposed  engagement. 
Will  you  be  good  enough  to  inform  me  when  I may  have 
the  pleasure  of  a visit  from  you  ? 

“ Yours  most  truly, 

“ Leopold  Eidlitz.” 

Hunt  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  importance  of 
the  work,  and  undertook  it  with  the  utmost  serious- 
ness. No  feeling  of  elation  seemed  to  possess  him. 
Instead  he  seemed  rather  like  one  awe-inspired.  He 
avoided  all  society,  except  that  of  the  few  who  could 
help  him  in  his  work,  shutting  himself  up  in  his  Boston 
studio,  wholly  engrossed  in  the  task  before  him.  Two 
subjects  were  wanted  for  the  wall-spaces  at  the  ends 
of  the  Assembly  Room. 

His  first  idea  was  to  make  one  of  the  paintings  a 
representation  of  Niagara  Falls,  but  the  authorities 
preferred  that  each  of  the  great  panels  should  be 
filled  with  a composition  embracing  figures  rather 
than  scenery  alone. 


MURAL  PAINTING 


159 


In  early  manhood,  probably  while  studying  com- 
position with  Couture,  he  had  wished  to  paint  his 
idea  of  Columbus  crossing  the  dark  ocean,  attended 
solely  by  Faith,  Hope,  and  kindred  spirits.  A pencil 
drawing  is  in  existence,  showing  his  first  conception 
of  the  subject.  It  was  decided  to  embody  the  story 
of  Columbus,  and  to  paint  the  figures  of  colossal  size 
to  fit  one  of  the  great  panels,  each  to  be  16  X 40  feet. 
The  other  space  was  to  give  him  an  opportunity  to 
paint  the  Anahita , and  it  was  decided  to  call  it  The 
Flight  of  Night. 

Hunt  returned  at  once  to  Boston  and  began  his 
five  months’  work,  knowing  only  too  well  that  the 
time  was  short  for  such  a gigantic  undertaking.  He 
was  also  aware  that  the  position  of  the  paintings 
would  be  unfavorable  in  the  extreme.  They  were  to 
be  over  a row  of  stained-glass  windows,  consequently 
in  the  dark,  unless  artificial  light  should  be  used. 
He  realized  that  they  must  be  painted  with  great 
breadth  and  vigor,  and  that  the  figures  must  be 
detached  from  their  background  by  a line  which 
finally  had  to  be  two  inches  in  breadth,  and  of  an 
almost  iron  rigidity.  He  proposed  to  paint  in  oil 
colors,  directly  upon  the  stone  of  the  building.  Send- 
ing to  Albany  for  pieces  of  the  stone,  he  experimented 
to  see  what  thickness  of  paint  should  be  used  in  order 
to  make  the  figures  “ bear  out  ” from  the  surface, 
what  the  drying-medium  should  be,  and  many  other 
important  details.  At  least  thirty  charcoal  drawings 
were  made,  in  addition  to  twenty  oil  paintings. 


i6o  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


For  The  Discoverer  it  was  necessary  to  make  colos- 
sal drawings  from  life.  In  the  centre  of  the  picture 
was  a barge,  the  bow  rising  on  the  crest  of  a wave. 
“Just  forward  of  the  middle  stood  the  ideal  figure  of 
Columbus,  twelve  feet  high,  wrapped  in  a Hamlet- 
like cloak,  the  noble  head  crowned  with  a Genoese 
cap,  and  the  partially  revealed  legs  clad  in  armor 
whose  warlike  glitter  indicated  that  the  wearer  was 
prepared  to  hold  what  he  might  find.  He  looked 
steadfastly  towards  the  west,  and  behind  him  was  the 
winged  figure  of  Fortune,  holding  with  her  left  hand 
the  barge’s  rudder,  while  with  her  right  forearm  she 
spread  a roseate  sail.  In  front,  Hope  leaned  upon 
the  bow,  and  with  her  extended  arm  seemed  to  hail 
the  long-sought  shore,  while  Science  spread  her  chart 
by  the  side;  and  Faith,  her  bowed  face  veiled  in  her 
curved  arm,  was  swimming  steadfastly  before  all.” 

These  idealized  figures,  although  ten  feet  high, 
were  so  admirably  drawn  and  modelled,  and  filled  so 
completely  the  space  allotted  them,  that  their  colossal 
proportions  were  not  in  the  least  evident.  They  were 
masterpieces  of  conception  and  of  execution,  and  re- 
markable for  simplicity,  breadth,  and  grandeur. 

The  entire  summer  was  spent  in  the  Park  Square 
studio,  with  exception  of  an  occasional  Sunday 
passed  at  Magnolia  for  change  of  air.  The  few  who 
saw  him  at  the  time  spoke  of  him  as  upon  the  heights 
of  classic  and  serene  exaltation,  and  as  saying  little 
of  his  work. 


The  Discoverer. 

From  a photograph  of  the  original  painting. 


PRELIMINARY  STUDIES  AND  WORK  161 


He  had  been  promised  an  opportunity  to  begin  his 
paintings  in  Albany  by  the  first  of  September;  and 
with  characteristic  punctuality,  was  ready  to  be  in 
the  Assembly  Chamber  on  that  day.  He  had  painted 
the  two  compositions  on  large  canvases,  and  was 
anxious  to  begin  at  once.  It  was  an  undertaking  for 
which  almost  any  artist,  however  skilled  in  mural 
painting,  would  have  required  nearly  a year’s  time. 
At  this  juncture  a tiresome  delay  occurred.  He 
received  word  that  the  necessary  staging  could  not 
be  ready  for  him  until  after  the  middle  of  October, 
giving  him  less  than  sixty  days  in  which  to  complete 
the  work,  before  the  opening  of  the  Assembly 
Chamber  on  the  2ist  of  December. 

He  was  earnestly  besought  not  to  undertake  such 
a superhuman  task;  and,  for  a time,  expected  to 
be  able  only  to  sketch  in  broadly  the  designs,  and 
to  leave  them  curtained  during  the  inauguration. 
Those  who  knew  him  can  understand  the  tremendous 
energy  with  which  he  threw  himself  into  the  work, 
and  will  see  how  impossible  it  was  for  him  to  rest  at 
such  a time.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  the  six 
weeks  of  delay  gave  him  the  more  strength  for  the 
work,  especially  as  he  drove  about  much  in  his  van, 
enjoying  the  society  of  a few  friends  who  were  making 
a late  stay  at  Magnolia. 

Of  the  preparations  for  the  Albany  work  little  was 
known  outside  of  the  Park  Square  studio.  It  is 
understood  however  that,  two  years  before,  Hunt 


1 62  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


had  invented  a remarkable  set  of  pigments  which, 
when  dry,  were  as  hard  as  flint,  and  “ as  luminous, 
almost,  as  light  itself.”  The  material  of  the  walls  of 
the  Assembly  Chamber  was  the  dark  Ohio  sandstone. 
After  painting  upon  the  slabs  of  stone  which  had 
been  sent  to  him,  the  artist  had  them  submerged  in 
water  for  several  days  in  order  to  test  the  paint. 
During  the  preceding  winter  he  had  subjected  similar 
painted  slabs  to  the  action  of  frost;  had  kept  one 
frozen  for  six  months  before  thawing  it  out.  The 
colors  remained  of  great  brilliancy  and  freshness,  and 
the  pigments  seemed  as  hard  and  firm  as  stone. 

An  important  step  was  to  make  the  color  scheme 
of  each  of  the  paintings  harmonize  with  the  stone 
walls  of  the  chamber.  Another,  to  experiment  with 
color  values  in  their  relation  to  one  another.  Four- 
teen oblong  pieces  of  pasteboard,  each  three  and  a 
half  feet  long,  were  covered  with  separate  presenta- 
tions of  the  subject.  They  are  said  to  have  been 
exceedingly  interesting  and  beautiful. 

The  final  working  studies  for  the  pictures  were 
eight  feet  and  a half  long  by  five  feet  and  a half  wide. 
On  the  night  of  the  18th  of  October,  1878,  he  began 
his  great  work  by  throwing  upon  the  walls  of  the 
Assembly  Chamber,  with  the  calcium  light,  his  studies 
of  The  Discoverer  and  The  Flight  of  Night.  On  the 
next  evening  he  drew  the  outlines  of  one  of  the 
pictures,  using  again  the  calcium  light,  and  working 
until  nearly  three  o’clock  of  the  next  morning.  On 


GOES  TO  ALBANY 


163 


Sunday  noon  he  returned  to  the  Capitol,  climbed  up 
to  the  staging  and  examined  the  outline,  — that  of 
The  Flight  of  Night.  With  fresh  eyes  he  saw  that 
the  drawing  was  not  large  enough  to  properly  fill  the 
space  allotted.  Hastily  conferring  with  Carter,  his 
assistant,  he  resolved  to  destroy  it  and  make  another 
one.  No  sooner  said  than  done.  Sponges  and  water 
were  sent  for,  and  with  haste  the  drawing  was  wiped 
out.  That  night  the  picture  was  again  drawn  in. 
On  the  next  afternoon,  shading  in  charcoal  was 
added.  At  night,  with  the  calcium  light,  The  Dis- 
coverer was  thrown  upon  the  opposite  wall,  and  in  its 
turn  shaded  with  charcoal.  To  this  a thin  glaze  of 
tint,  made  of  prepared  oil,  turpentine  and  paint, 
was  added,  to  fix  the  charcoal  and  obtain  certain 
values. 

The  paintings  were  not  really  begun  until  the  29th 
of  October,  and  on  the  21st  of  December  they  were 
completed.  On  account  of  the  scaffolding  the  artist 
had  never  had  a chance  to  see  his  work  from  the 
floor,  and  was  naturally  anxious  to  test  its  effect. 
With  some  of  his  relatives  he  stood  on  the  floor,  after 
the  removal  of  the  staging,  and  cast  his  reluctant 
eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  two  designs  that  had  cost 
him  so  much  labor,  time,  and  thought.  In  the  words 
of  another:  — 

“ His  satisfaction  was  immediate  and  perfect,  and  his  joy 
rapturous.  The  supreme  moment  of  the  enterprise  had 
come,  and  he  found  himself  victorious.” 


1 64  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


Of  the  work  at  Albany,  the  artist's  sister,  Miss  Jane 
Hunt,  writes : — 

“ When  fairly  at  work  in  the  Assembly  Chamber,  William 
wrote  for  me  to  come  up.  I went  for  a few  days  only,  but 
stayed  until  all  was  finished.  Everything  possible  was  done 
for  his  comfort  and  convenience,  — from  the  architects  and 
commissioners  to  the  workmen.  The  services  of  Carter, 
his  assistant,  were  invaluable.  William  enjoyed  the  work 
immensely,  and  was  more  like  himself  than  I had  seen  him 
for  years.  He  led  a very  regular  life ; enjoyed  very 
much  the  occasional  visits  of  the  architects,  the  commis- 
sioners, and  his  friends  from  Boston.  Lieutenant-Governor 
Dorsheimer  was  very  much  interested  in  the  paintings. 

“William  accepted  no  invitations  in  the  city,  and  saw  not 
a single  person  whom  he  did  not  wish  to  receive.  He 
spent  every  day  in  the  Capitol,  having  our  dinners  sent  up 
from  the  hotel,  the  table  being  set  in  the  corner  of  the 
scaffolding,  under  the  Anahita.  Tom  was  there  with  the 
horses,  and  every  afternoon  he  had  a short  drive  before 
supper,  after  which  he  retired  early.  On  the  next  morning 
he  would  be  as  fresh  and  happy  as  possible,  ready  for 
an  early  drive  to  the  Capitol  and  his  work. 

“ He  received  several  letters  urging  him  to  paint  por- 
traits of  different  individuals  on  his  return  to  Boston. 

“‘No/  he  would  say,  turning  to  us,  ‘I  am  going  to 
have  a vacation  now,  and  I think  that  I deserve  it.  I am 
going  to  Europe,  and  shall  take  Carter  with  me ; he  has 
been  working  so  hard.* 

“ He  had  hoped  to  go  with  H.  H.  Richardson,  the 
architect,  who  wished  to  visit  Italy  before  completing 
certain  work  at  the  Capitol. 

“ During  the  latter  part  of  December,  William  was  obliged 


LETTERS 


i65 

to  work  very  hard.  Everything  had  to  be  done  and  the 
Assembly  Chamber  cleared  for  furnishing  before  Christmas. 
At  times  he  complained  of  pain  in  his  leg,  saw  a physician, 
was  getting  tired  out,  and  looked  forward  to  his  much- 
talked-of  vacation.  When  his  work  was  done  I left  for 
Newport,  and  he  shortly  returned  to  Boston.  I heard 
from  him  constantly  while  in  Newport,  and  daily  expected 
to  hear  of  the  date  of  his  sailing.  But  he  began  painting 
again ! His  own  portrait,  that  of  the  venerable  Mr. 
Gardner,  and  other  work  as  well.” 

On  the  28th  of  October  he  wrote  to  Dr.  Angell  of 
Boston : — 

“ My  dear : I think  that  I must  send  you  a photo- 

graph of  the  walls  as  a record  of  the  work  thus  far.  One 
week  at  work,  and  the  outlines  are  about  completed,  and 
painting  begins,  I hope,  to-morrow. 

“ I can  tell  you,  it  is  like  sailing  a ‘ seventy- four/  or  riding 
eight  horses  in  a circus.  It  fills  one’s-  lungs  to  breathe  in 
front  of  such  spaces.  The  figure  of  Columbus,  or  The 
Discoverer,  is  eleven  feet  from  his  crown  to  the  boat  where 
his  shins  disappear.  His  hand  is  broader  than  this  page 
is  long.  The  scaffolding  is  spacious,  and  the  bridge  con- 
necting the  two  is  about  seven  feet  wide  and  seventy  feet 
long ; so  you  see  that  everything  is  in  proportion,  and  it 
is  delightful  to  work  forty  feet  from  the  floor. 

“ It  will  be  a great  mortification  if  we  don’t  succeed. 
Just  think  of  a twin  mortification,  forty-five  by  sixteen  ! 

" Yours  truly,  W.  M.  Hunt. 

“ P.  S.  It  is  lucky  that  I am  growing  far-sighted,  and 
require  large  print  at  a distance.  Remember  me  kindly 
to  all.” 


1 66  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


Again  he  wrote  to  Dr.  Angell,  who  had  expressed 
fears  that  he  was  working  too  hard,  and  had  ad- 
vised him  not  to  work  night  as  well  as  day,  but 
to  take  plenty  of  sleep. 

“ Albany,  Sunday,  November  24,  1878. 

“ My  dear  Friends,  — I received  your  note  of  warning, 
not  to  paint  all  night,  and  I follow  your  advice  to  the 
letter,  for  I paint  all  day,  and  should  be  only  too  thankful, 
I think,  to  have  a light  of  any  kind  in  these  dark  days. 
As  you  may  imagine,  a scaffold  of  ten  feet  wide  throws  quite 
a shadow,  when  there  is  light  enough  to  throw  anything. 
We  have  been  obliged  for  the  last  week  to  use  torches 
when  we  want  to  see  our  work  clearly,  and  we  begin  about 
nine  o ’clock  a.  m.,  and  come  away  about  six  o’clock  p.  m. 
Lunch  on  board. 

“ Now  you  need  n’t  pity  us  a bit,  and  this  apparent 
whining  is  merely  a form  of  brag,  or  something  that  we 
are  rather  proud  of,  and  something  of  an  excuse  to  sing 
about  if  the  things  look  ill  when  the  staging  comes 
down. 

“ It  is  good,  steady,  long-winded  work,  and  enough  of 
it,  — that’s  just  what  it  is.  Immensely  instructive,  I can 
tell  you  ; and  I can  conceive  now  why  those  old  fellows 
were  not  idiots  or  nigglers  in  their  business,  after  they  had 
passed  a life  in  front  of  walls,  and  painted  over  every 
large  room  they  had  ever  lived  in. 

“We  have  every  encouragement  here,  and  our  employers 
are  pleased  with  the  work  thus  far.  All  the  stone-cutters 
take  great  interest  in  it,  and  that  is  very  encouraging.  We 
have  every  advantage,  except  that  we  have  had  thus  far 
no  critics.  I suppose  that  if  we  had  been  assisted  by  their 


LETTERS  167 

presence  and  advice  we  should  have  already  finished  our 
work. 

“ Oh  ! it  is  a luxury  to  work  unsurrounded  by  whiners  ! 
We  can  paint  horses  sky-blue  if  we  choose,  and  nobody 
begs  us  to  desist.  If  the  work  looks  well  when  it  is  done 
I shall  insist  upon  your  coming  up.  If  not,  — when  we 
meet  we  *11  act  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 

“ Yours  truly, 

“ W.  M.  Hunt.” 

To  the  compiler  of  the  “ Talks  on  Art”  he  wrote : — 
“ Stanwix  Hall,  Albany,  Nov.  24,  1878. 

“ My  dear  Miss  K , — I have  heard  of  your  combi- 

nation exhibition  in  Boylston  Street.  I received  a card  of 
invitation  from  Miss  Ellen  Hale,  and  should  have  liked  to 
drop  in  to  see  the  show ; but,  as  the  saying  is,  ‘ a previous 
engagement  prevented.’ 

“ I received  your  envelope  containing  Macmillan’s  state- 
ment concerning  the  little  book,1  which  I think  was  quite 
encouraging. 

“I  think  that  our  friend,  Mr.  Lowes  Dickinson,  might 
like  to  know  something  about  my  present  work;  and  it 
occurred  to  me  that  if  you  feel  willing  to  take  the  trouble 
to  write  him  and  make  up  a parcel  of  things  to  send,  I will 
give  you  an  order  on  Mr.  Black  for  the  cabinet  photographs 
of  the  figures,  and  on  Mr.  Miller  for  solars  of  the  same, 
which  you  could  send  in  a roll.  What  do  you  think  of  the 
plan? 

“ I am  pegging  away  at  the  big  panels,  and  getting  on 
as  well  as  could  be  expected.  It  is  not  unlike  clearing 
up  a wood-lot. 


1 English  edition  of  “ Talks  on  Art.” 


1 68  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“ I have  every  encouragement,  and  hope  that  I may  be 
successful.  My  sister  is  with  me,  and  is  making  some  nice 
drawings. 

“ Hoping  that  your  health,  your  class,  and  your  exhibi- 
tion may  all  be  a success, 

“ Yours  truly, 

“ W.  M.  Hunt.” 


THE  ALBANY  WORK 


169 


CHAPTER  XV 

The  Albany  Work,  continued  — Interview  with  a 
Boston  Doubter  — Hunt’s  Enjoyment  of  His  Sur- 
roundings at  the  Capitol  — Plans  for  Further 
Decorations  — Governor  Robinson’s  Veto  — Tribute 
to  Lieutenant-Governor  Dorsheimer — Bad  Work 
on  the  Capitol  — Threatened  Destruction  of  the 
Paintings  — Their  Removal  in  Ten  Years’  Time  — 
A Tribute  to  the  Albany  Work  — Hunt’s  Last 
Visit  to  the  Capitol 

TT  7'HILE  engaged  upon  the  Albany  paintings,  he 
* * made  several  visits  to  Boston,  always  in  a state 
of  exaltation  over  the  pleasure  he  was  enjoying  in 
having  at  last  an  opportunity  to  develop  his  highest 
powers,  and  to  paint  the  great  dream  of  his  life,  the 
Anahita  ; or,  in  its  Americanized  title,  the  Flight  of 
Night.  He  had  also  good  reason  to  hope  that  other 
commissions  for  decorating  the  Assembly  Chamber 
would  follow;  and  he  was  planning  subjects  for  the 
different  wall  spaces  that  were  to  be  painted.  Two 
or  more  of  the  themes  were  to  be  taken  from  his 
great  pictures  of  Niagara  Falls;  and  his  active  mind 
was  already  composing  lines,  spaces,  values,  colors, 
effects ; and  in  the  perspective  of  a near  future  he 
saw  the  fulfilment  of  his  heart’s  desire  to  engage  in 
that  mural  painting  for  which  he  felt  the  power, 


170  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


needing  only  the  opportunity  by  which  it  could 
be  developed. 

People  who  saw  him  at  this  time  remarked  upon 
the  state  of  high  mental  exaltation  in  which  he 
seemed  to  live.  While  riding  in  a street  car  he  met 
a man  who  represented  the  conservative  side  of 
Boston  culture. 

“ What  are  they  doing  at  Albany?  ” he  asked. 

“ They  are  doing  a very  courageous  thing,”  replied 
Hunt. 

“ Courageous ! ” exclaimed  the  man.  “ What 
courage  is  there  in  spending  other  peoples’  money? 
I should  call  that  unwarrantable  extravagance.” 

“ Well,”  returned  the  artist  coolly,  but  with  a bit- 
ing tone,  “ if  the  people’s  money  had  not  been  ex- 
pended, there  would  have  been  no  Acropolis,  or 
anything  else  worth  having;  and  I would  like  to 
know  what  expenditures  have  paid  better.  Besides, 
I notice  that  in  this  country  the  rich  are  not  doing 
these  things.” 

“Why  do  you  paint  upon  the  walls?  ” asked  a man 
in  regard  to  the  Albany  work.  “ The  pictures  may 
be  destroyed  or  burned.” 

“ All  the  better  ! ” said  Hunt.  “ If  I could  I would 
burn  all  the  pictures  and  books  in  the  world,  and  start 
anew.” 

In  the  same  strain  of  thought,  he  once  said  that  a 
man’s  work  “ ought  not  to  last  more  than  twenty 


GOVERNOR  ROBINSON’S  VETO 


171 

years;”  and  declared  at  one  time  that  “ garrets  were 
as  essential  as  galleries.” 

While  Hunt  was  at  work  in  Albany  one  of  his 
friends  received  a letter  from  Mr.  Dickinson,  the 
London  portrait-painter,  in  which  he  wrote:  — 

“ Give  my  love  to  dear  Hunt,  and  tell  him  that  I hear  of 
his  work  with  the  greatest  possible  interest,  and  have  a 
longing  desire  to  come  over  and  look  at  it.  It  is  sure  to 
be  of  his  best,  because  he  loves  doing  it.  I am  glad  to 
know  that  at  last  the  public  authorities  have  opened  their 
eyes  to  the  fact  that  has  been  plain  enough  for  so  long  to 
other  folk,  that  they  have  in  their  midst  one  of  the  first 
painters  living.” 

It  had  been  the  intention  of  Messrs.  Eidlitz,  Dors- 
heimer,  and  their  associates,  to  continue  the  decora- 
tions of  the  Assembly  Chamber,  and  to  keep  Hunt 
in  Albany  as  long  as  he  lived.  The  New  York 
Legislature  had  voted  an  appropriation  of  one  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars,  but  the  plan  was  cut  short  by 
Governor  Robinson’s  veto  of  any  further  expenditure 
“ for  such  wrongful  use  of  the  public  money.” 

The  scheme  for  farther  decoration  of  the  Assem- 
bly Chamber  comprised  not  only  symbolical  repre- 
sentations of  the  great  activities  of  the  state,  like 
commerce,  education,  agriculture,  law,  art,  and 
science,  but  an  illustrative  tribute  to  the  brain  and 
labor  forces  that  were  employed  in  building  the 
Capitol.  Two  of  Hunt’s  magnificent  studies  of  Ni- 


172  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


agara  Falls  were  to  be  included  among  the  subjects, 
and  his  imagination  was  beginning  to  plan  the  great 
works  that  the  different  panels  would  require.  He 
felt  that  he  had  at  last  found  his  real  life,  and  was 
about  to  enter  the  door  of  his  long-delayed,  earthly 
aspirations.  It  was  in  the  Albany  Capitol,  or  no- 
where on  earth,  that  his  life  was  to  be  worth  liv- 
ing. Many  of  his  friends  believed  that  Governor 
Robinson’s  veto  was,  practically,  his  death-knell. 

He  had  looked  forward  to  going  on  with  the  work 
with  the  utmost  enthusiasm.  Once  launched  upon 
the  glory  of  his  full  life,  thought,  capacity,  action, 
he  dreaded  to  be  obliged  to  do  anything  else.  Not 
that  he  thought  the  less  of  what  he  had  done  in  the 
past,  but  he  gloried  in  the  thought  that  he  had  found 
his  field  of  action,  and  that  it  was  in  the  great  work 
of  mural  painting.  He  keenly  felt  the  confinement 
of  his  past  life,  and  longed  to  fly  from  it. 

“Think  of  it!”  he  said.  “You  never  hear  of 
Boston  one  hundred  miles  away ! I am  out  of  the 
world,  and  I want  to  stay  out.” 

The  physical  fatigue  of  walking  through  the  almost 
endless  corridors,  and  of  climbing  the  hundreds  of 
steps  that  led  to  the  scaffolding  and  to  his  studio, 
was  more  than  balanced  by  seeing  the  hundreds  of 
busy  workmen,  and  the  mental  identification  of  their 
characteristics,  individual  and  collective,  with  the 
object  of  their  existence  there. 

The  men  who  cut  the  stone,  who  carried  the  bricks 


ENCOURAGEMENT  FROM  WORKMEN  173 


and  mortar,  and  laid  them  all  together,  appeared  to 
Hunt  like  personages  fit  to  be  commemorated  on  the 
walls  they  carried  up ; and  he  wanted  to  make  the 
structure  alive  with  the  thought  and  labor  that  had 
erected  it.  He  selected  the  characters  which  he 
wished  to  use,  and  framed  them  into  a mental  com- 
position. He  said : — 

“ That *s  the  man  I want  for  the  centre  of  a group 
of  workmen  in  repose.  Here ’s  a rousing  old  head 
for  which  I shall  have  a place.  There  ’s  a man  I 
want.  He  is  going  up  a ladder,  with  his  hod.  Look 
at  that  group.  Isn’t  it  ready  to  paint?  Figures 
go  together  well  when  they  are  interested  in  a pur- 
pose. Does  n’t  that  old  boy  take  you  back  to  the 
early  frescoes?  You  see  that  type  everywhere.” 

Standing  upon  the  scaffolding  in  the  Capitol,  he 
said  to  a visitor:  — 

“Do  you  see  that  old  Irishman?  He  is  the  chap 
that  I spoke  to  you  about.  I ’ll  put  him  where  he 
will  ‘ tell,’  for  he  has  more  character  than  an  entire 
Congress.  See  how  big  his  movement  is  ! Does  n’t 
he  handle  that  hoe  with  the  dignity  of  a king?  But 
here  ! There  ’s  the  man  I want  you  to  look  at  when 
I get  to  work,  and  you  begin  to  stroll  around  to  pick 
up  your  sympathies  among  the  crowd.  It  is  the 
humanity  here  which  makes  this  place  interesting. 
Here  you  will  find  every  type  and  temperament.” 

Hunt  said  that  he  had  never  received  such  en- 
couraging sympathy  as  he  did  from  the  workmen 


174  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


who  came  up  to  the  scaffold  to  ask  if  they  might  see 
the  pictures;  and  they  said  that  while  they  were 
proud  to  be  working  on  such  a building,  they  were 
prouder  still  to  see  his  work  going  on. 

“ I tell  you,”  he  said,  “ that  I never  felt  so  big  in 
my  life  as  I did  when  they  asked  me  if  they  could 
come  again  ! They  didn’t  come  around  to  grumble 
in  Greek,  but  to  help  me  along;  and  that  is  what 
I want.” 

Looking  down  forty  feet  from  the  scaffolding  to 
the  floor  below,  upon  the  hundreds  of  workmen,  he 
exclaimed,  with  feeling:  — 

“ I never  before  felt  what  a big  thing  a great  build- 
ing is ! Think  of  the  crowd  of  varied  interests  that 
are  represented  in  this  room ! Think  of  all  those 
men,  and  their  families,  thinking  and  working,  year 
in  and  out,  all  to  one  end,  — the  making  of  this 
Capitol ! People  grumble  and  whine  about  the 
money  which  is  ‘ thrown  away  ’ upon  it ; but  I tell 
you  that  it  is  an  immense  work,  and  worthy  of  any 
state  or  nation.  It  is  the  greatest  thing  which  this 
state  has  ever  done ! and  a very  sensible  way  in 
which  to  expend  money.  Do  you  think  that  it  is 
‘ throwing  away  money  ’ to  keep  fifteen  hundred 
skilled  workmen  in  one  place,  and  doing  one  thing? 
No,  sir;  it  is  a good  investment;  and  the  more  it  is 
done,  the  richer  we  shall  be.  It  ought  to  go  on 
forever.  I never  felt  before  what  a power  the  united 
effort  of  hundreds  has  upon  the  mind.  Just  think  of 


TRIBUTE  TO  DORSHEIMER 


175 


being  a part  of  it ! Here  I am  in  my  own  world,  and 
I want  to  stay  here.” 

While  in  Boston  for  a day  or  two,  he  was  found 
keenly  absorbing  Michael  Angelo’s  Day , studying  the 
turn  and  foreshortening  of  the  foot,  which  caught  his 
eye  and  seemed  to  remind  him  of  the  foot  of  the  sleep- 
ing mother  in  his  own  Flight  of  Night ; “ thirsting,”  as 
he  said,  “ for  knowledge  which  he  so  much  needed ; ” 
feeling  how  little  he  knew  and  how  great  the  work  he 
had  undertaken,  yet  never  failing  to  express  his  keen 
enjoyment  of  it  all,  and  saying:  — 

“ It  is  getting  to  be  as  easy  to  paint  as  to  handle 
a stick  of  charcoal.  Mural  painting  gives  one  great 
facility.” 

Of  Lieutenant-Governor  Dorsheimer  he  said  that 
he  was  the  only  man  whom  he  had  ever  met  in  this 
country  who  had  an  adequate  idea  of  what  a state 
ought  to  do  in  matters  of  art.  It  was  his  wish  that 
the  Albany  Capitol  should  be  filled  with  historical 
pictures,  and  that  Hunt  should  work  there  as  long  as 
he  lived. 

“ I would  rather  carry  out  this  project,”  he  would 
say,  “than  be  governor  of  the  state.” 

The  work,  as  far  as  it  went,  was  inspired  and 
carried  out  by  him.  Hunt’s  work  was  a great 
triumph  of  art;  and  but  for  Governor  Robinson’s 
veto,  the  Assembly  Chamber  would  have  been  a 
marvel  of  beauty  and  magnificence,  which  would 
have  attracted  world-wide  attention. 


176  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


The  story  of  the  building  of  the  New  York  State 
Capitol  is  not  altogether  free  from  evidence  of  political 
bribery  and  wire-pulling.  It  was  probably  begun 
and  carried  out  at  first  in  good  faith,  and  with 
sincerity  of  purpose ; but  details  of  its  completion 
were  given  into  other  and  less  capable  hands,  and  a 
leaky,  ill-made  roof  caused  the  disintegration  of  the 
stone  panels,  and  in  time  great  portions  of  Hunt’s 
paintings  flaked  off.  Ten  years  from  the  Monday  on 
which  Hunt  left  Boston  to  begin  the  work,  all  that 
was  left  of  those  superb  paintings  was  ordered  to  be 
removed. 

Nowhere  save  in  America  could  this  have  hap- 
pened. Immense  sums  of  money  expended  upon  the 
decoration  of  a building  which,  in  some  parts,  was  so 
badly  constructed  that  wind  and  rain  could  not  be 
prevented  from  making  serious  destruction  ! A com- 
mission given  for  two  great  mural  paintings,  each 
forty-five  feet  long,  to  be  completed  in  less  than  three 
months,  that  time  lessened  by  the  delay  of  contractors 
or  workmen  to  the  short  space  of  less  than  seven 
weeks.  In  ten  years  no  trace  left  of  works  which 
cost  their  artist  his  life ! 

It  was  hoped  by  all  of  Hunt’s  friends  that,  on  the 
completion  of  the  Albany  work,  he  would  at  once 
sail  for  Europe ; but  the  exhilaration  of  success  was 
upon  him,  and  he  returned  to  his  Boston  studio  and 
resumed  portrait-painting,  declaring  that  he  never 


A TRIBUTE  TO  THE  ALBANY  WORK  177 


felt  better,  never  more  ready  for  work.  He  accepted 
his  disappointment  over  Governor  Robinson's  veto 
with  great  equanimity,  but  the  wound  was  deep,  and 
his  friends  think  fatal. 

Before  leaving  the  subject  of  these  great  paintings, 
executed  at  such  cost  to  the  artist,  his  family,  and  his 
friends,  it  may  be  well  to  publish  the  following  appre- 
ciative tribute  written  by  the  widow  of  Mr.  Hunt  for 
private  circulation  among  her  friends : — 

“ These  pictures  seem  not  to  have  been  understood  by 
the  public ; and  as  they  are  already  doomed  soon  to  fade 
forever  from  our  sight,  through  the  dampness  and  slow 
settling  of  the  Capitol  building,  these  few  words  have  been 
written  to  act  only  as  humble  servitors  which  may  help  to 
keep  the  deep  symbolic  meaning  of  them  green  in  the 
memories  of  our  people,  and  bear  testimony  to  the  genius 
of  our  poet-painter,  William  Morris  Hunt. 

“ These  two  mural  paintings  in  the  Capitol  at  Albany, 
New  York,  are  allegorical  representations  of  the  great 
opposing  Forces  which  control  all  nature,  and  were  the 
cumulative  work  of  the  painter’s  mind  from  the  years  1842 
and  ’43,  till  it  culminated  in  these  remarkable  pictures, 
completed  in  the  years  1878  and  ’79.  They  must  abso- 
lutely be  taken  in  conjunction  to  be  rightly  understood, 
as  each  is  the  complement  of  the  other. 

“They  represent  Negative  and  Positive,  Night  and  Day, 
Feminine  and  Masculine,  Darkness  and  Light,  Superstition 
and  Science,  Pagan  and  Divine  Thought,  Self  and  Altruism  ; 
and  youth  may  here  find  a lesson  as  grand  as  Homer  and 
the  ancients  ever  taught. 


12 


178  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“ Anahita,  Persian  goddess  of  the  moon  and  night,  repre- 
sents negative  or  feminine  force.  Anahita,  driven  forth 
from  her  realms  of  fantasy  and  unreality,  impelled  by  the 
dawn  of  civilization,  plunges,  with  her  airy  car,  into  the 
dark  and  hidden  caverns  of  superstition  and  barbaric 
thought.  The  slave,  who  bears  an  inverted  torch,  holds 
back  the  horses  that  Anahita  may  look  her  last  upon  the 
kingdom  she  so  soon  must  relinquish.  The  horses  obey 
her  will  without  the  ribbons  by  which,  in  earlier  sketches, 
they  were  guided.  This  suggests  the  power  of  mind  over 
matter.  By  the  side  of  the  cloud-chariot  floats,  in  a dark- 
blue  transparent  ether,  the  sleeping  forms  of  a human 
mother  and  child.  This  vision  hints  to  the  queen  of  night 
of  other  worlds  than  hers,  where  love  and  rest  belong ; and 
as  she  hurries  on  her  course  between  the  contending  forces 
of  day  and  night,  light  and  darkness,  a look  of  human 
doubt  surprises  the  beauty  of  her  Pagan  countenance,  and 
renders  her  as  tragic  and  typical  a figure  as  that  of  the 
Columbus,  and  the  fitting  counterpart. 

“ Columbus  represents  positive  or  masculine  force. 
Lonely,  and  led  by  Faith,  Science,  Hope,  and  Fortune, 
Columbus  crosses  the  waters  of  Destiny.  Faith,  nearly 
engulfed,  leads  on  this  spirit  band,  breasting  the  waves, 
while  with  one  arm  she  hides  her  eyes.  Hope  stands  at 
the  prow,  and  prophesies  fulfilment.  Science  holds  the 
chart  or  scroll  that  Columbus  may  be  guided  by  it.  For- 
tune is  at  the  helm,  but  with  wings  half  outspread.  She 
is  placed  behind  Columbus,  which  is  very  significant. 
Her  left  hand  grasps  the  tiller  which  guides  this  whale- 
shaped craft.  Around  her  right  arm  is  wreathed  the  rude 
sail.  Storm  winds  fill  it  full,  and  drive  them  onward  to 
the  west.  The  chains  are  visible  beside  the  solitary  figure ; 


HUNT’S  LAST  VISIT  TO  ALBANY  179 

tut  Columbus  peers  with  intensity  of  will  into  the  future 
and  ignores  them.  The  central  figure  has  no  theatrical, 
posture-making  character  of  the  conqueror;  but  is,  as  it 
were,  bowed  down  with  the  greatness  of  his  mission,  while 
neither  danger  nor  the  chains  of  ignominy  can  divert  him 
from  his  heart’s  desire  and  conviction. 

“ Both  these  paintings  represent  the  Thought  of  their 
period  in  the  world’s  history.  It  is  not  without  intention 
that  both  seem  suspended  between  faith  and  doubt.  She, 
with  the  intensity  of  feminine  sympathy ; he  with  the  calm 
majesty  and  patience  of  manhood.  Both  are  moving  to 
their  destiny,  and  both  are  meant  to  teach  a fundamental 
and  eternal  truth,  though  canvas  and  even  stone  shall 
crumble  away.” 

A short  time  after  the  opening  of  the  Assembly 
Chamber,  Hunt  visited  Albany,  and  looked  for  the 
last  time  upon  his  two  great  mural  paintings.  A 
mob  of  Assemblymen  were  shouting  before  the 
Speaker's  desk,  and  all  eyes  were  upon  them.  No 
one  noticed  the  gentleman  who  modestly  stood  in 
the  back  part  of  the  room,  and  almost  timidly  raised 
his  eyes  to  look  at  the  paintings.  Hunt  remained 
but  a few  moments,  and  then  walked  quietly  away. 

Perhaps  it  is  of  little  consequence  to  record  the 
words  of  several  distinguished  people  in  regard  to 
the  Albany  paintings.  Phillips  Brooks  did  not  regard 
them  as  successful ; adding  that  he  did  not  consider 
Hunt  to  be  the  man  to  paint  them,  as  “he  was 
essentially  perceptive,  not  reflective.”  Some  men, 
learned  outside  of  art,  declared  that  the  subjects  chosen 


180  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


for  the  paintings  were  not  suited  for  a State  Capitol ; 
that  historical  events  should  have  been  perpetuated. 
Foxcroft  Cole,  the  eminent  landscape-painter,  and  a 
personal  friend  of  Hunt,  regarded  him,  first  of  all,  as 
a portrait-painter.  Every  critic,  and  almost  every 
artist,  has  his  point  of  view,  and  the  world  would 
move  but  slowly  did  the  workers  stop  to  ask  their 
opinion  before  venturing  upon  great  undertakings. 


RETURN  TO  THE  BOSTON  STUDIO  181 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Return  to  the  Boston  Studio,  January,  1879  — Portraits 
— Exhibition  — III  Health  — Hunt  Closes  his  Studio 
— Visits  Weathersfield,  Vt.  — Letters  to  Carter 
and  his  Wife  — Goes  to  the  Shoals  — Letter  from 
Mrs.  Thaxter  — Life  at  Appledore  — Delight  over 
Low’s  Tiles  — Graphic  Letter  from  Mrs.  Thaxter, 
describing  Hunt’s  Life  at  the  Shoals,  and  his  Death 
— Previous  Attacks  of  Vertigo  at  Different  Times 
— Funeral  at  Brattleboro’,  Vt.  — Description  of 
his  Last  Resting-place  — His  Death  a Great  Loss 

TTUNT  had  been  received  in  Albany  with  open 
arms.  He  returned  to  Boston  flushed  with  the 
happiness  of  his  great  success,  and  met  — the  usual 
calm  conservatism  of  our  city.  Nothing  daunted,  he 
went  to  work  in  his  studio,  and  painted  two  remark- 
able portraits : one  of  the  venerable  Mr.  Gardner,  and, 
fortunately,  one  of  himself,  the  latter  an  order  from 
his  friend  Mr.  Peter  C.  Brooks.  After  completing 
these  portraits  he  gathered  together  all  his  work, 
including  the  Albany  sketches,  and  opened  in  his 
studio  a wonderful  exhibition.  Not  one  picture 
sold,  and  of  only  one  was  the  price  asked.  It  was 
one  of  the  most  poetical  of  his  renderings  of  the 
scenery  of  Niagara. 

“ I should  be  glad  to  get  $750  for  it,”  said  Hunt; 


1 82  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


but  the  picture  was  not  bought.  In  less  than  a year’s 
time,  after  his  death,  it  was  sold  for  $7500. 

As  spring  came  on,  he  experienced  the  reaction 
due  to  his  superhuman  work  in  Albany,  and  as  there 
was  no  longer  hope  of  any  further  commissions  of 
a similar  nature,  his  spirit  seemed  to  sink  and  his 
health  to  fail.  The  exhibition  had  been  a last  effort 
to  re-establish  himself  in  Boston.  It  had  failed. 
Dispirited  and  ill,  he  closed  his  studio,  writing  upon 
the  door  these  fateful  words : — 

“ Suffield,  Brattleboro’,  Weathersfield.”  The  first 
named  was  the  birthplace  of  his  mother ; Brattleboro’ 
was  his  own  birthplace,  and  Weathersfield  the  coun- 
try home  of  his  brother,  where  he  went  in  search 
of  sympathy  and  rest.  Like  many  another,  as  his 
last  days  were  approaching,  he  turned  to  the  scenes 
and  associations  of  childhood.  At  Elmsholme,  his 
brother’s  beautiful  country-place,  everything  was  done 
by  relatives  and  friends  to  restore  the  fast  flickering 
spark  of  life.  At  times  he  rallied,  but  it  was  only 
for  a short  period.  He  felt  that  he  should  “ never 
touch  a brush  again.”  To  him  life  meant  work,  and 
work  meant  life;  and  notwithstanding  his  cheerful 
manner,  and  apparent  hopefulness,  there  was  an 
underlying  current  of  sorrow  at  the  thought  that  his 
work  was  done. 

His  faithful  friend  and  assistant,  Carter,  was  with 
him  almost  constantly;  but,  on  the  30th  of  June, 
finding  that  Hunt  seemed  to  be  regaining  health  and 


LETTERS  TO  CARTER  AND  HIS  WIFE  183 

strength,  left  him  to  return  to  his  own  home.  To  him 
Hunt  wrote  the  following  letter:  — 

“ I imagined  you  arriving  in  Boston  a little  while  after  our 
tea ; and  yesterday,  at  about  the  same  hour,  safely  at  home 
in  Westboro’.  What  a relief  it  must  have  been  to  you,  what 
a reward  for  your  unbounded  patience,  and  what  a let-up  ! 
Well,  I must  n’t  be  sentimental,  but  I will  express  my  grati- 
tude. Since  you  left  I have  endeavored  to  take  your  place 
in  taking  care  of  me.  ...  I really  do  not  want  you  to 
hurry  back  on  my  account.  Do  try  to  have  a good  time, 
so  you  may  not  lose  your  faith  in  the  whole  human  race.” 

A few  days  earlier  he  had  written  to  Mrs.  Carter : — 

“ It  must  be  dreadfully  aggravating  for  you  to  have 
your  husband  penned  up  here  so  long.  But  I can 
tell  you  one  thing.  When  he  does  get  back  (if  that 
ever  happens)  what  there  is  left  of  him  will  have 
gone  through  a fiery  furnace  of  patience ; and  I will 
guarantee  that  the  temper  of  the  old  Damascus  blades 
was  nothing  in  comparison. 

“ I really  pity  him,  and  you  too ; but  I am  so  self- 
ish that  I pity  myself  the  most;  and  although  I 
would  like  to  be  generous  and  give  him  up  a little, 
I find  myself  selfishly  clinging  to  him.” 

When  Hunt  was  in  Magnolia,  waiting  for  the 
Albany  staging  to  come  dowrn  that  he  might  begin 
his  work,  more  than  one  friend  remarked : “ A year 
from  to-day,  he  will  not  be  alive  ! ” While  in  Albany 
he  often  said:  “ If  I live  to  finish  this  work.”  For 
years  his  health  had  not  been  firm.  From  the  year 


1 84  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


of  the  burning  of  his  studio  in  Summer  Street,  he 
had  scarcely  known  a day  of  perfect  health,  or  of 
freedom  from  pecuniary  anxiety. 

As  midsummer  approached,  a visit  to  the  Shoals 
was  planned,  and  successfully  accomplished.  With 
his  life-long  affection  for  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thaxter 
it  seemed  that  he  could  find  no  summer  retreat  like 
the  well-known  cottage  attached  to  the  famous 
Appledore  House,  and  presided  over  by  “Celia,”  as 
Mrs.  Thaxter’s  friends  delighted  to  call  her.  Here 
he  found  the  purest  air,  solitude  at  will;  and  the 
pretty  pageant  of  the  summer  colony  afforded  always 
a pleasant  spectacle.  Living  in  the  cottage  he  could 
avoid  people  when  he  wished  to  be  alone ; and  when- 
ever he  met  his  many  friends  staying  at  Appledore, 
he  gave  and  received  much  exquisite  pleasure.  Still, 
the  incurable  nervous  prostration  was  upon  him,  and 
it  required  all  his  equanimity  and  native  cheerfulness 
to  live  on,  from  day  to  day,  even  under  the  most 
favoring  conditions. 

Of  his  coming  to  the  Shoals,  Mrs.  Thaxter  wrote : — 

“Just  think  of  our  having  William  Hunt  here, 
shuddered  back  from  the  dreadful  verge,  so  attenu- 
ated, so  pathetic ! He  and  his  sister,  his  brother, 
and  his  man  Carter  are  all  housed  beneath  this  cot- 
tage roof ; and  I hope  and  trust  that  the  air  is  going 
to  do  everything  for  him. 

“ ‘ Fold  him  to  rest,  O pitying  clime ! 

Give  back  his  wasted  strength  again.’ 


LETTER  FROM  MRS.  THAXTER  185 

“ Poor,  dear  fellow ! there  is  nobody  I pity  so  much. 
Mr.  Thaxter  is  here,  next  door  to  his  room.  Every- 
body is  taking  care  of  him.  ...  I told  him  that  I 
wished  he  would  consider  my  little  den,  — my  nook, 
my  bower,  this  fresh  and  fragrant  little  parlor,  — as 
his  own  particular  property ; and  he  said : — 

“‘You  dear  child!  You  don’t  know  what  a mis- 
erable, sick,  weak,  good-for-nothing  I am,  — fit  only 
for  my  bed.’ 

“ But  he  really  is  coming  back  to  life ; eats  and 
sleeps  again,  and  yesterday  rowed  a little  in  the 
children’s  boat  on  the  pond,  and  takes  an  interest 
in  things,  in  the  charming  music  of  the  band,  etc.” 
Hunt’s  life  at  the  Shoals,  during  the  eight  weeks 
of  his  stay,  was  a constant  struggle  to  be  cheerful. 
Everything  possible  was  done  for  his  comfort,  but 
there  was  scarcely  a moment  when  he  could  not 
have  said : — 

“ Ain’s  self ’s  the  sairest  weight.” 

The  centre  of  a devoted  circle  of  friends  and  rela- 
tives, he  had  some  hours  of  peace  and  happiness ; 
but  always  before  him  was  the  thought  that  his  work 
was  done.  A few  artists  were  there,  as  usual;  and 
he  could  not  avoid  taking  an  interest  in  their  work, 
and  giving  a friendly  and  helpful  word.  To  one  he 
tried  to  explain  his  scheme  for  painting  landscape 
by  forcing  bright  color  to  its  utmost  height.  After 
this  came  a sleepless  night  and  renewed  suffering. 


1 86  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


As  the  season  waned  and  people  took  their  depart- 
ure for  home,  work,  and  the  taking  up  of  an  active 
life,  he  began  to  express  some  anxiety  in  regard  to 
his  future  movements.  He  dreaded  the  thought  of 
railway  travel ; the  smoke  and  dust  would  be  suffo- 
cating; but  at  last  he  was  persuaded  to  join  Dr. 
Bowditch’s  family  party  on  their  trip  to  the  White 
Mountains.  At  this  time  his  spirits  rose,  and  he 
wrote  brief  letters  in  a happy,  almost  jovial  tone. 
At  the  same  time,  a friend  who  had  been  with  him 
at  the  Shoals  all  summer,  said,  on  his  return  to 
Boston : — 

“ Hunt  is  in  a very  bad  way.  He  is  feeble,  and  I 
doubt  if  he  touches  brush  to  canvas  for  two  years  at 
least.  He  seems  completely  broken  down.  The 
only  time  when  I saw  him  brighten  up  into  his  real 
old  self  was  when  John  Low  sent  me  down  some  of 
his  fine  tiles.  Hunt  was  looking  them  over,  and 
when  he  saw  the  one  with  three  donkeys  in  a pas- 
ture, he  pointed  to  a part  of  the  landscape  in  one 
corner,  and  said  : — 

“‘By  Jove!  There’s  Constable!  Tell  Low  that 
I am  going  to  write  to  him  and  tell  him  how  much  I 
like  them,  as  soon  as  I am  able  to.  I have  n’t  the 
strength  now.’  ” 

Of  his  life  at  the  Shoals,  Mrs.  Thaxter  wrote : — 

“ He  wore  such  a brave,  heroic  front  over  all  he  suffered, 
that  we  never  dreamed  of  such  a terrible  end  at  hand.  In 


MRS.  THAXTER’S  TRIBUTE 


187 


and  out  of  our  pleasant  parlor,  and  about  the  sunny  piazza, 
in  the  sweet  summer  weather,  he  passed  at  all  hours  of  the 
day,  watching  the  glowing  colors  in  the  little  garden  or  the 
beautiful  sea  and  sky,  or  lying  in  one  of  the  hammocks 
listening  to  the  lovely  music  of  piano  and  violin  that  floated 
out  to  him  from  within ; or  chatting  pleasantly  with  this  or 
that  friend  of  the  many  who  drew  close  about  him,  glad  to 
have  the  privilege  of  listening  to  his  wonderful  speech,  — 
so  the  bright  days  passed,  and  I am  sure  that  he  must  have 
found  some  pleasure  in  them,  feeling  himself  so  wholly 
beloved,  honored,  and  appreciated  by  all.” 

No  especial  apprehension  was  felt  about  him  until 
the  sad  Monday  of  September  8th.  Mrs.  Thaxter,  in 
a letter  to  the  New  York  Tribune , thus  described  the 
scene  of  the  tragedy : — 

“ At  the  top  of  the  ledge  behind  the  cottage  at  Appledore 
is  a tiny  basin  hollowed  out  of  the  rock  to  catch  the  rains, 
a shallow  reservoir  filled  with  water,  which  is  conducted  by 
pipes  to  the  wharf  for  the  use  of  the  small  steam-yacht, 
Pinafore,  which  plies  continually  between  the  islands  during 
the  season.  It  is  a lovely  place,  this  little  sheet  of  tranquil 
water  lying  out  on  the  top  of  the  rocks,  open  to  the  sky 
and  reflecting  its  every  tint  and  change  as  perfectly  as  the 
great  ocean  beyond  it.  Hunt  and  his  sister  had  sat  together 
near  it  in  the  pleasant  days,  while  she  sketched  it  and  the 
gable  of  the  house  close  by.  He  often  said  how  pretty  it 
was.  Round  it  the  fragrant  barberry  bushes  cluster  thickly, 
and  until  late,  the  wild  roses  blossom  in  sweetness.  At  its 
brim,  all  summer  long,  the  little  birds  come  to  drink  and  to 
wash,  with  twinkling  wings  ruffling  the  bright  surface.  Often 
I watched  them  from  my  window  at  sunrise,  — sparrows, 


i8S  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


swallows,  sand-pipers,  that  make  the  place  musical  with 
melodious  cries.  Here  on  that  Monday  morning,  when  all 
our  little  world  was  seeking  him,  I found  all  that  was  left  of 
our  beautiful  friend,  floating  upon  his  face,  while  the  wind 
fluttered  a fold  of  his  long  coat  which  lay  on  the  water  dark 
in  the  still  and  sunny  glitter  of  the  surface  elsewhere  un- 
broken. In  a moment  help  was  on  the  spot,  and  unavailing 
efforts  to  resuscitate  him  were  made,  but  life  had  been  gone 
for  some  hours. 

“He  had  not  seemed  more  depressed  than  usual  that 
morning.  He  sat  with  us  by  the  fire  for  a while  after 
breakfast.  It  had  been  raining.  Then  he  went  out,  and 
we  never  saw  him  again.  It  was  an  hour  or  two  before  we 
were  really  aroused  to  alarm  about  him ; for  each  one 
thought  him  in  this  or  that  place  where  he  was  accustomed 
to  be,  and  no  anxiety  entered  our  hearts,  for  of  such  a ca- 
tastrophe we  could  not  dream. 

“ I wish  that  all  who  loved  him  could  have  looked  upon 
his  grand,  still  face  when  he  was  dead ; for  there  was  peace. 
Of  the  splendor  of  the  genius  lost  to  the  world,  of  the 
beauty  of  that  high  nature,  too  noble  to  harbor  bitterness, 
or  any  ungenerous  thought  toward  any  creature,  there  is  no 
need  to  speak.  He  is  a great  light  untimely  quenched ; 
and  there  are  no  words  to  match  our  love  for  him,  our  rev- 
erence, and  our  sorrow.” 

Those  who  knew  Hunt  best,  and  who  knew  of  his 
sufferings  both  at  Weathersfield  and  at  the  Shoals, 
could  understand  that  the  immediate  cause  of  his 
death  was  one  of  the  fits  of  vertigo  to  which  he  had 
frequently  been  subject.  For  several  years  he  had 
not  trusted  himself  to  ford  a river  or  to  look  from  a 


TRAGIC  DEATH  OF  HUNT 


189 


great  height.  While  working  in  Albany  he  usually 
avoided  looking  down  from  the  high  staging,  a dis- 
tance of  forty  feet.  While  at  Weathersfield,  Vt.,  he 
sometimes  stopped  when  going  down  stairs,  feeling 
the  possibility  of  an  attack  of  vertigo.  Doubtless, 
while  standing  by  the  reservoir  at  Appledore,  he  was 
seized  by  one  of  these  attacks;  and,  leaning  upon 
the  staff  of  his  umbrella,  which  seems  to  have  broken 
under  his  weight,  fell  face  down  upon  the  water. 
This  view  is  strengthened  by  the  finding  of  the  um- 
brella, with  its  broken  staff,  six  months  later,  in  the 
opposite  side  of  the  reservoir.  A surgeon  in  attend- 
ance declared  that  he  had  fallen  into  the  water  while 
unconscious.  He  was  so  good  a swimmer  that  he 
would  have  struggled  unconsciously  had  the  fall  been 
premeditated. 

The  funeral  took  place  at  the  Unitarian  Church  in 
Brattleboro’,  Vt.,  on  the  nth  of  September.  It  was 
largely  attended  by  relatives  and  friends,  and  among 
the  latter  were  many  well-known  artists  from  Boston 
and  New  York.  The  interment  was  in  the  family  lot 
in  the  village  cemetery,  beside  the  grave  of  his  father, 
Hon.  Jonathan  Hunt.  The  grave  is  on  the  brow  of 
the  hill  where  one  looks  off  across  the  tree-hidden 
village  to  the  Connecticut  River  winding  along  the 
foot  of  Wantastiquet,  and  to  the  mountains  which 
mark  the  horizon  on  the  north.  It  is  covered  by  a 
heavy  slab  of  polished  granite,  which  bears  the  simple 
inscription : — 


igo  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


“William  Morris  Hunt,  born  March  31,  1824;  died 
Sept.  8,  1879.” 

Deep  and  wide-spread  was  the  sorrow  that  followed 
Hunt’s  death.  After  the  first  shock  of  surprise  came 
the  sad  realization  of  what  it  meant.  Here  was  a 
man  of  undoubted  genius,  taken  from  life  and  work 
in  the  noonday  of  his  power.  Testimonials  to  his 
worth  were  in  every  journal  in  the  land ; but  these 
paled  by  the  side  of  the  tributes  of  the  men  and 
women  who  had  revered  and  loved  him. 


MEMORIAL  EXHIBITION 


191 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Memorial  Exhibition  of  Hunt’s  Works,  November,  1879 
— Representative  of  his  Career  as  an  Artist  — 
Portraits  of  Hunt  — Vitality  of  his  Work  — The 
Meaning  of  the  Exhibition  — Great  Public  Inter- 
est— Tribute  to  the  Exhibition  and  to  the  Artist 
— Poem  by  Susan  Coolidge 

ON  the  nth  of  November,  1879,  a Memorial  Ex- 
hibition of  the  works  of  William  Morris  Hunt 
was  opened  at  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston. 
It  lasted  until  December  15th,  and  was  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  exhibitions  ever  held  in  this  country. 
In  every  way  it  was  a fitting  memorial  to  the  artist 
and  the  man.  The  committee  of  arrangements  was 
as  follows : — 

Mr.  Charles  C.  Perkins,  Dr.  Henry  J.  Bigelow,  Messrs. 
Martin  Brimmer,  J.  Eliott  Cabot,  John  G.  Carter,  J.  Fox- 
croft  Cole,  Miss  Helen  M.  Knowlton,  Messrs.  Charles  G. 
Loring,  Thomas  Robinson,  Frank  Hill  Smith,  George  W. 
Wales,  and  William  R.  Ware. 

The  oil  paintings  numbered  two  hundred,  and  the 
charcoal  and  pastel  drawings  one  hundred  and  nine- 
teen. Four  other  contributions  included  three  speci- 
mens of  sculpture,  and  one  of  cameo-cutting.  The 
principal  gallery  of  the  Museum  was  filled  with  the 


192  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


larger  and  more  important  of  the  paintings,  while 
the  third  gallery  contained  many  of  the  lesser  works 
and  a fine  display  of  charcoal  and  pastel  drawings. 
The  Allston  Room  was  not  used,  although  it  could 
have  been  filled  with  paintings  by  Hunt,  had  there 
been  a longer  time  in  which  to  prepare  for  the 
exhibition. 

It  was  the  first  adequate  display  that  had  ever 
been  made  of  his  work,  and  every  one  fqlt  that  it 
would  be  the  last.  It  was,  in  a high  degree,  repre- 
sentative of  his  career,  his  progress,  and  his  hopes. 
It  showed  his  early  efforts  in  the  French  romantic 
school,  his  desire  to  paint  historic  or  Biblical  com- 
positions, — as  the  masters  were  doing  in  those  days, 
notably  Couture,  Hunt’s  instructor.  It  gave  evi- 
dence of  the  turning-point  in  his  career,  when  he 
cared  no  more  for  his  acknowledged  successes,  and 
worked  humbly  and  ardently  with  Millet;  when  he 
began  to  paint  his  own  ideal  pictures ; when  he  laid 
these  aside  for  a time  to  come  home  to  America,  and 
give  himself  almost  wholly  to  portraiture ; when  he 
again  essayed,  in  his  little  scraps  of  leisure,  to  turn  to 
his  beloved  ideal ; when  life  began  to  be  hard ; when 
teaching  came  next  in  order ; when  at  times  he  took 
up  his  own  poetical  work;  when  health  began  to 
fail,  and  expenses  were  hard  to  meet;  when  he  tried 
landscape  in  a tentative  sort  of  way;  when  he  began 
to  feel  that  he  had  the  reins  of  power  in  his  hands ; 
when  nothing  short  of  the  Falls  of  Niagara  claimed 


MEMORIAL  EXHIBITION 


193 


his  splendid  abilities ; when  the  great  opportunity  of 
his  life  came,  and  he  launched  fearlessly  upon  the 
untried  sea  of  great  mural  painting.  All  this,  and 
more,  was  depicted  upon  the  walls  of  the  exhibition. 

Four  portraits  of  Hunt  hung  on  the  wall  of  the 
staircase,  outside  the  hall.  One,  by  his  mother,  had 
merit  as  a picture,  but  its  chief  interest  was  that  of 
its  likeness  to  the  original.  The  face  was  pensive, 
sweet,  and  full  of  talent.  The  fine  brow,  under  thick 
clustering  hair;  the  face,  childlike  and  undeveloped; 
the  eyes  dreamy  and  beautiful,  — all  helped  to  make 
a rare  picture  of  a youth  of  great  promise,  at  the  age 
of  fourteen. 

One  of  the  portraits  was  a full-length  by  Leutze, 
painted  in  a Stuart  dress,  as  a reminiscence  of 
Vandyke’s  Charles  I.  The  face  was  refined,  but 
contained  none  of  the  characteristics  of  the  other 
portraits. 

Another  likeness  was  by  Monguiat,  a French  artist, 
painted  in  or  near  the  year  1850.  The  fourth,  by 
Blagden,  was  of  still  later  date,  but  painted  while 
Hunt’s  hair  was  still  brown.  These  were  good  as 
portraits,  but  not  strong  as  works  of  art. 

Near  the  door  of  the  gallery  hung  his  first  order, 
A Girl  Reading,  a work  stamped  with  that  sentiment 
and  refinement  which  remained  a characteristic  of  his 
work  to  the  last.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  door 
was  the  portrait  of  his  wife,  taken  over  twenty  years 
before.  It  was  scarcely  a profile.  The  back  of  the 

13 


i94  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


handsome  head  was  seen  with  its  compact  mass  of 
rich,  dark  braids,  the  short  hair  making  a tiny  curl 
behind  the  ear.  It  showed  the  outline  of  a youthful 
brow,  cheek,  and  chin.  A full,  smooth  neck,  slightly 
curved, — as  the  face  was  bent  over  a small  piece  of 
white  needlework  on  which  the  hands  were  busy; 
the  dark,  domestic  dress  enhancing  the  freshness  and 
warmth  of  the  complexion. 

Facing  the  door  was  a bust  portrait  of  Hunt,  one  of 
his  last  productions,  a fine  work  of  art,  and  supremely 
interesting  as  a likeness.  The  tall,  spare  form;  the 
long,  thin,  high-featured  visage;  the  lofty  forehead; 
the  deep-set,  almost  cavernous  eyes ; the  bronzed 
cheeks,  and  long,  snowy  beard,  all  bore  witness  to 
suffering  of  body  and  mind,  while  every  line  and 
furrow  betrayed  genius  and  sensibility. 

Before  this  portrait  stood  a small  table,  on  which 
was  placed,  daily,  a vase  of  rare  flowers,  — the  offer- 
ing of  his  pupils.  One  day,  a laurel  wreath  lay 
upon  the  table. 

Among  the  articles  of  personal  interest  was  a 
model  of  Hunt’s  hand, — his  strong,  supple,  creative 
hand ; and  under  a glass  case,  a little  patchwork 
quilt,  made  by  him  at  his  mother’s  side,  when  he 
was  three  or  four  years  old.  The  wonderfully  neat, 
even  stitches  looked  as  if  the  capable  little  fingers 
had  been  pleasantly  employed  in  their  work.  In 
after  years  Hunt  attributed  much  of  his  deftness  and 
skill  to  his  early  use  of  the  needle. 


MEANING  OF  THE  EXHIBITION 


*95 


The  exhibition  was  an  impressive  one.  The  stamp 
of  true  art  was  on  every  canvas,  and  the  pictures 
were  remarkable  for  their  vitality.  The  portraits 
held  one  with  singular  power,  — the  power  of  the 
artist,  and  the  character  of  his  sitter.  Hunt  could  not 
paint  man  or  woman  who  did  not  hold  his  attention 
and  command  his  respect.  In  like  manner  he  held 
those  who  observed  them.  Rev.  Dr.  J.  F.  Clarke,  “ the 
seeker  for  truth,”  as  Hunt  called  him ; Charles  Sum- 
ner, Governor  Andrew,  Judge  Lowell,  Mrs.  Charles 
Francis  Adams,  — one  of  Hunt's  best  portraits;  Mr. 
William  H.  Gardner,  Mr.  Martin  Brimmer,  Mr.  Sid- 
ney Bartlett,  and  many  others  held  court  in  the 
Museum  Gallery,  all  living  realities,  created  by  the 
hand  of  genius  to  remain  in  our  community  as  long 
as  canvas  and  pigment  shall  last. 

Said  a vivid  writer : — ■ 

“ Step  into  the  Hunt  Exhibition  at  the  Boston  Museum 
of  Fine  Arts ; and  a glance  is  enough  to  tell  to  what  order 
of  men  the  painter  of  these  pictures  belonged.  How  vivid 
the  variety  of  characteristic  impressions  from  life  and  nature 
that  forthwith  begin  to  play  across  the  mind  ! Look  at 
yonder  trumpeter  blowing  the  blast  of  war  ! That  colossal 
horse  means  the  trampling  of  armies;  that  terrible  rider 
the  launching  of  the  thunderbolt  of  death.  Look  at  this 
sensitive,  loving  girl,  folding  in  her  arms  a lamb,  while  the 
mother  follows  bleating.  Has  the  artist  hit  the  mark?  A 
glance,  for  an  answer,  at  the  tender  expression  stealing 
over  the  faces  of  the  women  and  children  hanging  over 
it;  yes,  and  over  the  cast-iron  features  of  more  than  one 


x96  art-life  of  william  morris  hunt 


hard-visaged  man  ! Turn  then  to  a scene  from  nature, 
say  the  Storm  at  Manchester . Who  that  has  ever  beheld 
ocean  and  tempest  in  elemental  wrestle,  but  feels  all  the 
massive  sensations  of  dread  and  sublimity  he  then  ex- 
perienced awakened  afresh  in  him  ! 

“All  Hunt’s  friends  report  that  he  was  a marvellously 
salient  and  out-hoping  man.  How  his  pictures  speak  right 
out ! Take  the  portrait  of  Judge  Shaw,  for  example. 
‘You  Boston  people/  the  painter  audibly  says,  ‘do  not 
begin  to  understand  what  you  had  in  your  great  chief  jus- 
tice. Never  struck  you  before  that,  by  the  grace  of  the 
Eternal  Powers,  Minos  or  Rhadamanthus  had  been  ap- 
pointed to  the  Supreme  Bench  of  Massachusetts,  eh? 
Well,  I mean  to  let  daylight  in  upon  you.  I ’ll  plant  him 
before  you  as  adamantine  as  gravitation.  I ’ll  put  a judi- 
cial weight  into  the  pressure  of  the  very  hand  he  plants 
upon  the  table,  that  shall  say,  “ Whatsoever  I bind  on  earth 
shall  be  bound  in  heaven .”  Look  at  him  ! That  is  the 
man  you  had  with  you  ! ’ 

“ But  it  is  not  alone  with  chief  justices  that  this  thoroughly- 
alive  painter  deals  after  this  fashion.  Turn  to  that  marvel- 
lous portrait,  Mother  and  Child ’ It  seems  like  a revelation 
sent  home  to  the  souls  of  all  husbands  of  such  women,  and 
all  fathers  of  such  boys.  There  is  what  you  are  really  dow- 
ered with  in  such  possessions.  If  you  have  never  recog- 
nized it  and  felt  it,  I ’ll  make  you  do  so  now. 

“The  supreme  lesson  which  he  teaches  lies  precisely 
here : c Eyes  have  you , but  you  see  not ; ears , but  you 
hear  not l ” 

The  interest  in  the  exhibition  was  great,  and  the 
date  of  closing  was  postponed  to  the  end  of  Decern- 


TRIBUTE  TO  THE  ARTIST 


X97 


ber.  At  least  three  thousand  people  visited  it  on 
each  of  the  free  days,  and  the  attendance  of  paying 
visitors  was  very  large.  People  went  to  see  it  again 
and  again.  The  catalogue  was  prefaced  by  a full 
and  appreciative  notice  of  Hunt  by  his  friend  Mr. 
John  C.  Dalton,  who  said  : — 

“ William  Morris  Hunt  was  beyond  question  among  the 
first  of  American  artists.  He  will  certainly  always  retain 
that  position,  whatever  may  be  the  success  of  others  in  the 
future.  Works  of  commanding  merit,  like  his,  require  a 
certain  time  to  be  fully  appreciated,  and  need  the  judg- 
ment of  another  generation  to  fix  their  exact  place  in  com- 
parison with  those  of  a different  kind.  But  the  superiority 
of  his  aims  and  methods  is  wholly  unmistakable.  Every 
picture  that  he  has  left  bears  the  stamp  of  a master ; and 
in  certain  qualities,  at  least,  he  was  far  beyond  any  of  his 
predecessors  or  contemporaries.” 

The  collection  was  in  every  way  unique,  and  aside 
from  its  great  variety  of  subject  and  treatment,  pos- 
sessed a charm  of  its  own.  Vitality  and  character 
breathed  from  every  canvas,  and  over  all  hung  an 
air  of  dignity  and  refinement  such  as  one  feels  upon 
entering  the  great  art-galleries  of  the  world.  The 
painter  of  these  pictures  had  loved  all  the  great 
masters  who  came  before  him.  He  had  learned  from 
them ; and  when  he  came  back  to  our  new  country, 
resolving  to  paint  what  he  saw  as  he  saw  it,  his  zeal 
was  tempered  by  what  he  had  absorbed  of  their  grace 
and  charm.  Yet  was  he  thoroughly  original  in  aim 


x98  art-life  of  william  morris  hunt 

and  thought.  As  life  went  on  he  grew  more  and 
more  into  the  fortunate  expression  of  himself.  Could 
he  have  lived  ten  years  longer  he  would  have  made  a 
strong  and  far-reaching  impression  upon  the  art  of 
this  country.  There  was  something  unconsciously 
pathetic  in  his  words : — 

“ In  another  country  I might  have  been  a painter ! ” 

The  exhibition  was  visited  by  art-loving  people 
from  different  parts  of  the  country,  and  was  regarded 
far  and  near  as  a great  artistic  event.  Among  the 
more  prominent  visitors  was  Mr.  John  Taylor  John- 
ston, president  of  the  New  York  Metropolitan  Museum 
of  Art.  He  was  so  impressed  by  its  significance  that 
he  returned  to  New  York  with  the  intention  of 
moving  the  whole  collection  to  that  city.  No  gallery 
could  then  be  found  that  was  suitable  for  such  an 
exhibition ; but  later,  when  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
of  Art  was  opened,  steps  were  taken  to  obtain  for  its 
gallery  as  many  of  the  Hunt  pictures  as  possible. 
Only  about  fifty  were  shown,  as  most  of  them  had 
been  returned  to  their  owners,  and  could  not  again 
be  collected.  However,  those  which  were  exhibited 
in  New  York  had  the  advantage  of  a well  lighted 
gallery,  and  gave  evidence  of  being  the  work  of  one 
of  the  greatest,  and  certainly  the  most  versatile 
artist,  that  America  had  then  produced. 

Of  the  exhibition  in  Boston,  Mrs.  S.  W.  Whitman, 
one  of  Hunt’s  foremost  pupils,  said : — 


TRIBUTE  TO  THE  ARTIST 


199 


“ It  bore  witness  to  his  power  of  expressing  the  6 fulness 
of  inner  feeling/  to  the  strength,  the  variety,  the  subtilty  of 
his  genius.  Even  what  is  called  the  moral  passion  of 
America  has  a place  in  his  art.  His  works,  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  are  deeply,  profoundly  moral;  dealing 
with  human  action  or  contemplation  on  a plane  almost 
austere  in  its  seriousness  and  its  dignity. 

“ Happily  for  us  his  works  remain ; and  to  those  among 
whom  he  lived  there  remains  also  the  glowing  remembrance 
of  a nature  high,  generous,  and  true,  — of  gifts  so  noble 
and  of  a presence  so  inspiring  that  the  very  memory  seems 
still,  even  as  he  seemed,  ‘a  splendor  among  shadows/  ” 

In  a magazine  article  from  the  pen  of  the  same 
gifted  woman  occurs  this  passage : — 

“ With  every  advantage  of  circumstance,  one  undertakes 
the  task  of  estimating  rank  and  value  with  a sad  sense  of 
inadequacy  to  give  even  a hint  of  the  high  and  subtile  spirit 
which  we  knew  by  the  name  of  William  Morris  Hunt,  — one 
who  at  fifty-five  years  of  age  had  the  heart  of  a child,  and 
was  as  ardent  a seeker  for  the  meaning  of  what  lay  about 
him  as  if  the  world  had  just  opened  upon  his  eager  gaze. 
But  we  shall  find  him  his  own  interpreter  in  many  ways, 
and  the  warmth  of  his  presence  still  makes  itself  felt ; while 
amid  all  the  complexities  of  his  existence  there  is  also  that 
fine  simplicity  in  his  life  which  comes  from  one  abiding 
determination,  one  enduring  desire  ; a single  thread  of  pur- 
pose, on  which  are  strung  the  failures  and  successes  of  his 
swift  career.” 

In  the  “Atlantic  Monthly’’  for  February,  1880, 
appeared  the  following  poem  by  Susan  Coolidge : — 


200  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


Interpreted. 

The  master’s  portrait  hangs  upon  the  wall 
’Mid  votive  flowers  ; his  pictures,  left  and  right, 
Hover  and  bend,  and  seem  to  woo  his  sight 
With  pleading  look  and  gesture.  Silent  all ; 

Voiceless  the  thunders  of  the  mighty  Fall ; 

Noiseless  the  drum-beat  and  the  bugle  tone, 

The  hiss  of  wave  and  spray,  the  rustling  leaves, 

The  shout  which  hails  the  heaped-up  harvest  sheaves. 

The  whisper  of  the  father  to  the  son, 

Heart  clasped  to  heart,  and  tearful  cheek  on  cheek, 

— Voiceless  and  moveless  all,  and  yet  they  speak, 
And  he,  the  master,  answers  to  his  own  : 

“ You  are  my  best  of  life.  Stand  forth  and  be 
Interpreters  between  the  world  and  me.” 


A MEMORIAL  TO  HUNT  PROPOSED  201 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A Memorial  to  Hunt  Proposed  — A Suggestion  of  a 
Statue  and  a Fountain  Combined  — Proposal  to  Pur- 
chase Paintings  for  a Hunt  Room  in  the  Boston 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts  — Last  Exhibition  of  Hunt’s 
Work,  1880  — Sale  of  his  Paintings,  etc.,  at  Auction 
— Many  of  his  Paintings  Exhibited  in  London,  1881  — 
Scarcity  of  his  Work 

A T the  time  of  Hunt’s  death  a strong  desire  was 
^ felt  that  steps  should  be  taken  to  secure  some 
fitting  and  enduring  memorial.  The  first  proposition 
was  the  placing  of  a monument  in  Park  Square,  not 
far  from  the  studio  which  he  had  built  and  occupied. 
In  discussing  plans  for  such  a memorial,  a remark- 
able design  was  sketched  in  a few  moments  by  T.  PI. 
Bartlett,  the  sculptor,  an  intimate  friend  of  Hunt  and 
a warm  admirer  of  his  genius.  The  design  suggested 
a sitting  figure  of  the  painter,  as  given  in  Black’s 
cabinet  photograph  of  Hunt,  where  he  is  represented 
as  sitting  in  his  studio,  in  painter’s  working  garb, 
wearing  a skull-cap,  and  holding  his  palette  as  if 
studying  the  canvas  upon  which  he  had  been  at 
work.  The  figure  was  to  sit  in  a temple-like  en- 
closure, with  a roof  supported  by  four  slight  pillars. 
On  the  base  were  to  be  sculptured  bas-reliefsy  the 


202  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


designs  to  be  taken  from  the  Albany  paintings. 
Around  the  sides  were  to  be  drinking  troughs  for 
horses.  There  was  something  eminently  fitting,  pic- 
turesque, and  thoroughly  artistic  about  the  entire 
design,  and  more  than  one  friend  of  Hunt’s  felt  that 
it  would  have  been  as  characteristic  as  it  was  original. 
Hunt  was  very  fond  of  horses;  and  like  many 
another  painter,  found  Park  Square  a location  of 
picturesque  interest.  He  loved  his  kind,  especially 
the  workers ; and  he  would  have  preferred  a tablet  in 
Park  Square  to  an  imposing  monument  on  the  “ Back 
Bay.”  Many  of  his  friends  felt  that  a Hunt  Room  in 
the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts  would  be  more  fitting  than 
a statue,  and  the  discussion  of  the  subject  ended  in 
the  publication  of  the  following  circular:  — 

“ Boston,  November  15,  1879. 

“ It  is  proposed  to  give  expression,  by  a permanent 
memorial,  to  the  general  regard  and  admiration  for  William 
Morris  Hunt  and  to  the  feeling  of  the  public  loss  by  his 
death.  It  seems  fitting  that  this  memorial  should  be  in 
Boston,  where  he  was  best  known  and  loved,  where  for  so 
many  years  he  painted  and  taught,  where  his  influence  has 
been  so  widely  and  strongly  felt. 

“ We  know  by  the  achievements  of  the  last  year  of  his 
life  that  he  died  in  the  fulness  of  his  assured  strength.  We 
have  lost  the  hope  and  promise  of  work  greater  than  any 
he  had  done.  We  have  lost  what  was  more  than  this,  the 
inspiring  presence  and  activity  of  a man  whose  skill  in  his 
art  was  the  instrument  of  true  creative  power.  Much,  how- 
ever, remains  of  him.  His  power  and  his  insight  into  the 


A MEMORIAL  TO  HUNT  PROPOSED  203 


truths  of  art  still  live  in  his  works,  in  his  words,  and  in  the 
remembrance  of  those  who  knew  him. 

“ To  perpetuate  and  keep  alive  his  influence  is  the  best 
service  that  can  now  be  done  in  his  name ; and  to  form  the 
beginning,  at  least,  of  what  shall  become  a permanent  and 
adequate  collection  of  his  pictures  seems  the  most  suitable 
memorial  of  him.  His  works  are  his  best  monument. 

“ It  is  proposed  to  raise  a fund  for  the  purchase  of  such 
of  his  paintings,  now  obtainable,  as  shall  be  of  most  value 
to  the  public  and  to  artists ; to  deposit  these  permanently 
in  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  where  they  will  be  at  once 
safe  and  accessible ; and  to  request  the  Trustees  of  the 
Museum  to  place  them  together  in  a room  to  be  called  the 
Hunt  Room,  in  which  a bust  or  other  portrait  may  recall 
his  presence. 

“ Contributions  to  this  fund  may  be  made  to  Edward 
Bangs,  Treasurer,  31  Pemberton  Square,  or  to  any  member 
of  the  Committee. 


“ Horace  Gray, 

Edward  Bangs, 
Elizabeth  H.  Bartol, 
Henry  I.  Bowditch, 
Martin  Brimmer, 
Edward  C.  Cabot, 
Charles  P.  Curtis, 
Charles  H.  Dalton, 
Sophia  T.  Darrah, 
William  Dorsheimer, 


Edmund  Dwight, 
John  M.  Forbes, 
George  Fuller, 
Elizabeth  B.  Greene, 
Henry  L.  Higginson, 
Helen  M.  Knowlton, 
Susan  M.  Lane, 
Quincy  A.  Shaw, 
Samuel  G.  Ward, 
Sarah  W.  Whitman.” 


Mr.  Quincy  A.  Shaw  and  the  Hon.  John  M.  Forbes 
opened  the  subscription  with  one  thousand  dollars 
each.  Others  followed  with  generous  sums,  and 
nearly  twenty  thousand  dollars  was  the  result.  The 


204  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


last  hundred  dollars  or  more  came  from  pupils  of 
one  of  Hunt’s  scholars,  several  sending  from  their 
homes  in  distant  parts  of  the  country,  anxious  to 
contribute  each  her  mite  to  the  memory  of  the 
master  whom  she  had  learned  to  revere. 

The  last  exhibition  of  Hunt’s  work  was  held  in  the 
Park  Square  studio  in  1880,  opening  on  January 
19th,  and  closing  on  January  30th.  It  included  one 
hundred  and  one  paintings  and  charcoal  drawings, 
and  it  was  understood  that  the  entire  collection 
would  be  sold  by  public  auction  on  the  afternoons 
of  February  3d  and  4th. 

The  occasion  was  one  of  great  interest,  for  it  was 
believed  that  this  would  be  the  last  opportunity  to 
obtain  any  of  his  work.  The  exhibition  in  the  studio 
was  one  of  remarkable  quality,  including  many  large 
and  important  paintings,  such  as  the  large  Niagara , 
62  X 102  inches;  the  American  Falls,  and  the  Horse- 
Shoe  Falls,  each  31  X 43  inches;  the  exquisite 
Nautilus  Fleet;  the  admirable  picture,  Gloucester 
Harbor  ; representations  of  the  scenery  of  Gloucester, 
Magnolia,  Manchester,  and  of  Naushon  Island,  — a 
fine  and  representative  showing  of  the  artist’s  later 
work. 

The  auction  sale  took  place  in  the  large  Horticul- 
tural Hall,  which  was  filled  with  an  enthusiastic  and 
earnest  audience,  met  with  the  intention  of  making 
the  sale  an  overwhelming  success.  The  committee 
for  purchasing  pictures  for  the  proposed  Hunt  Room 


PAINTINGS  EXHIBITED  IN  LONDON  205 


not  only  felt  sure  of  twenty  thousand  dollars  for  the 
purpose,  but  the  presence  of  certain  wealthy  and 
public-spirited  citizens  made  it  seem  probable  that 
the  sum  of  forty  thousand  dollars,  possibly  more, 
would  be  reached  for  the  purpose.  The  bidding  was 
brisk,  with  a good  deal  of  competition.  The  figures 
realized  were  good  in  every  case,  and  in  some  in- 
stances very  high.  It  was  the  largest  sale  ever  held 
in  Boston,  and  one  of  the  largest  ever  made  in  this 
country.  When  concluded  it  was  found  that  several 
of  the  most  important  works  had  been  withdrawn,  in 
spite  of  their  very  high  bids.  Among  these  were 
the  paintings  which  had  been  selected  for  the  Hunt 
Room,  and  the  committee  found  themselves  without 
a picture,  and  in  the  dilemma  of  having  accomplished 
nothing  with  the  funds  entrusted  to  them.  The 
money  was  returned  to  the  subscribers,  and  the 
subject  of  a memorial  to  the  great  artist  fell  to  the 
ground. 

For  the  large  Niagara  Falls  the  sum  of  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars  is  said  to  have  been  offered 
and  refused.  Bids  of  ten  and  twelve  thousand  dollars 
met  a similar  fate.  The  pictures  reserved  from  the 
sale,  with  others  added,  were  sent  to  England,  in  the 
care  of  Carter,  and  shown  in  the  gallery,  14  Grafton 
Street,  Old  Bond  Street,  London,  in  May  and  June, 
1881.  The  room  had  been  built  only  for  the  exhi- 
bition of  prints  and  other  black  and  white  work, 
and  was  most  unfavorable  for  the  showing  of  large 


206  art-life  of  william  morris  hunt 


oil  paintings.  An  inner  room,  gas-lighted,  and  filled 
with  Hunt’s  inimitable  charcoal  drawings,  was  very- 
attractive.  As  they  were  not  for  sale  they  became 
to  a few  Londoners  a pleasant  and  vague  memory 
of  a unique  exhibition  which  missed  its  mark  by 
being  shown  in  London  instead  of  Paris. 

London  was  full  of  its  own  peculiar  art.  The 
Royal  Academy  had  its  crowds ; so,  too,  the  Gros- 
venor  Gallery ; and  a dozen  smaller  exhibitions  were 
in  the  full  force  of  popular  favor.  A few  artists 
only  wandered  around  to  the  Hunt  collection,  to 
wonder  a little  over  its  qualities,  which  they  did  not 
seem  to  understand.  Sir  J.  Everett  Millais  did  not 
consider  it  representative,  although  warmly  praising 
some  of  the  portraits. 

The  collection  was  brought  back  to  Boston,  and 
stored  for  about  ten  years  where  darkness  and  damp 
made  sad  havoc  with  some  of  the  paintings.  A few 
were  saved,  while  others  were  in  different  stages  of 
injury.  To  this  may  doubtless  be  attributed  the  fact 
that  so  few  of  Hunt’s  pictures  ever  found  their  way 
into  the  market.  When  visitors  from  distant  States 
come  to  Boston  and  ask  to  be  shown  the  works  of 
an  artist  of  whom  they  have  heard  so  much,  it  is 
impossible  to  give  them  an  adequate  idea  of  the 
character  and  quantity  of  his  work.  There  are  usu- 
ally a few  of  his  pictures  in  the  galleries  of  the 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts;  but  the  majority  are  in  the 
possession  of  private  owners,  few  of  whom  have 


SCARCITY  OF  HIS  WORK 


207 


galleries  that  are  publicly  accessible.  Furthermore, 
the  total  destruction  of  the  grand  paintings  in  the 
Albany  Capitol  adds  another  tragic  chapter  to  the 
life  of  an  artist  on  whom  Fate  seemed  to  lay  a 
heavy  hand. 

Truly,  “ he  touched  the  earth  like  a flame ; ” but, 
like  a flame,  destruction  seemed  to  follow  in  the 
wake  of  some  of  his  greatest  efforts,  and  continue 
to  the  sad  end  of  his  story. 

With  all  his  fertility  of  imagination,  such  was  his 
regard  for  truth  that  he  always  desired  to  test  his 
most  poetic  work  by  comparing  it  with  the  possibili- 
ties of  nature.  Possibly  his  idea  of  composition  was 
not  unlike  that  of  Millet,  who  declared  that  it  was 
“ the  art  of  expressing  something  which  we  have 
seen.”  While  studying  the  three  horses  for  the 
Anahita  he  confessed  to  finding  great  difficulty  in 
establishing  the  action  of  the  middle  horse,  the  mag- 
nificent black  one.  He  knew  what  its  fiery  and  un- 
tamable movement  ought  to  be,  but  could  not  satisfy 
himself  without  seeing  a similar  action  in  nature. 
While  visiting  a friend  who  had  fine  horses,  he  was 
rewarded  for  patient  waiting  and  watching  by  seeing 
a superb  black  horse  plunging  high  upon  his  hind 
feet  in  an  effort  to  break  away  from  his  groom.  The 
action  was  exactly  what  Hunt  had  imagined  it  should 
be.  Verifying  his  idea  by  the  truth  of  nature,  he  at 
once  sketched  the  horse  from  memory,  and  soon 
modelled  it  in  clay  with  the  other  two. 


208  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


His  efforts  to  paint  light  in  the  dark  space  over 
the  windows  of  the  Albany  Capitol  showed  him  how 
far  it  was  necessary  to  force  color  in  order  to  make 
it  count  with  any  hint  of  the  truth  of  nature.  In 
much  of  his  later  work  there  is  evident  a desire  to 
attain  to  more  light,  to  arrive  at  a point  where  he 
could  also  get  pure  color  by  the  vibration  of  con- 
trasting hues. 

Had  he  lived  ten  years  longer  it  is  probable  that 
he  would  have  had  much  sympathy  with  the  new 
school  of  painters.  It  is  also  possible  that  he  might 
have  become  one  of  their  leaders.  Progress  was  his 
watchword.  No  man  ever  had  a deeper  reverence 
for  the  great  work  of  the  past,  and  no  one  could 
have  had  more  sanguine  hopes  for  the  future.  He 
would  say : — 

“ Some  day  there  will  be  great  painting;  but  to  do 
it  a man  must  be  tremendously  strong.” 

He  had  felt  the  need  of  the  vibrating  quality  of 
light  and  color  which  the  Impressionists  and  their 
followers  have  labored  to  attain.  He  might  not  have 
been  willing  to  bend  himself  to  their  methods,  but  he 
would  have  respected  their  aims,  and  would  have 
encouraged  any  honest  worker  who  was  striving  to 
express  an  original  idea. 

In  his  pocket-book,  after  his  death,  was  found  a 
small  memorandum-book,  in  which  he  had  written 
a number  of  original  maxims.  The  following  are 
indeed  golden. 


A LOAN  EXHIBITION  IN  BOSTON 


209 


“To  be  strong,  get  self-control.  To  be  strong, live 
for  others.” 

“No  one  ever  injures  us.  We  injure  ourselves.” 

“Selfishness  shortens  up  the  road  of  life  to  a 
point.  That  is  fine,  is  it  not?  Epictetus  never 
excelled  it.” 

In  Miss  Thackeray’s  sketch,  “From  an  Island,” 
she  describes  a Royal  Academician  in  phrases  that 
are  thought  to  apply  with  curious  adaptability  to  the 
late  William  M.  Hunt : — 

“As  St.  Julian  talks,  his  eyes  flash.  He  is  not  calm  and 
self-contained,  as  one  might  imagine  so  great  a painter; 
but  a man  of  strong  convictions,  alive  to  every  life  about 
him,  and  to  every  event.  His  cordial  heart  and  bright, 
artistic  nature  are  quickly  touched  and  moved.  He  be- 
lieves in  his  own  genius,  grasps  at  life  as  it  passes,  trans- 
lates it  into  a strange,  quaint  revelation  of  his  own,  and 
brings  others  into  his  way  of  seeing  things  almost  by  magic. 
. . . He  lets  people  into  his  sacred  temple,  but  he  makes 
them  put  their  shoes  off,  so  to  speak,  and  will  allow  no 
word  of  criticism,  save  from  one  or  two.” 

In  April,  1894,  a loan  exhibition  of  over  eighty  of 
Hunt’s  paintings  was  given  by  the  St.  Botolph  Club  of 
Boston.  The  idea  originated  with  Mr.  I.  M.  Gaugen- 
gigl,  an  artist  member  of  the  Club,  who  felt  that  it 
was  time  for  the  organization  to  include  among  its 
exhibitions  one  of  Boston’s  great  artist.  For  three 
weeks  Mr.  Gaugengigl  laid  aside  his  own  work,  and 

14 


2io  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


unreservedly  gave  his  time  to  seeing  the  owners  of 
Hunt's  paintings,  and  selecting  such  as,  in  the  com- 
paratively small  gallery,  would  best  represent  his 
work.  The  catalogue  contained  this  preface : — 

“As  to  the  illustrious  dead  who  rest  in  their  desired 
peace,  we  need  not  be  troubled.  But  for  us,  the  living, 
there  is  need  that  we  often  tenderly  repeat  their  names 
and  seek  to  understand  what  they  did,  and  also  that  we 
tell  those  who  come  after  us  what  manner  of  men  lived  in 
our  days. 

“ There  has  never  been  on  this  continent  so  great  and 
varied  an  exhibition  of  works  by  an  artist  of  distinction  as 
greeted  the  lovers  of  art  in  Boston,  in  November,  1879, 
when  more  than  three  hundred  paintings  and  drawings  of 
William  M.  Hunt  were  exposed  to  public  view  in  the 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts.  This  exhibition  has  become  a 
proud  and  permanent  memory,  and  the  works  themselves 
a priceless  inheritance  to  the  art  treasures  and  history  of 
the  city. 

“That  this  memory  may  be  refreshed  and  carried  on 
joyously  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  possess  it  now,  as  well 
as  adding  a new  delight  to  those  who  see  these  pictures 
for  the  first  time,  is  the  grateful  purpose  of  the  present 
exhibition. 

“If  time  has  steadily  brightened  the  remembrance  of 
the  most  vital  personality  in  American  art,  and  deepened 
the  appreciation  of  his  high  qualities,  so  has  it  helped  to 
a better  understanding  of  the  work  he  has  left  to  the 
enduring  honor  of  the  nation.” 

Much  public  interest  was  felt  in  this  exhibition, 
partly  from  the  desire  to  know  how  Hunt’s  work 


APPRECIATION  OF  HUNT  IN  BOSTON  21 1 


would  bear  comparison  with  that  of  more  modern 
masters.  Had  his  friends  and  pupils  over-estimated 
his  ability?  How  would  his  paintings  bear  compari- 
son with  the  best  painters  of  to-day,  whether  Ameri- 
can or  European  ? Calmly,  and  with  their  own  native 
dignity,  his  works  made  reply : — 

“ We  came  from  the  hand  of  a master,  a man  true 
to  his  principles ; one  who  would  not  stoop  to  gain 
popular  applause;  who  suffered  from  the  want  of 
appreciation  of  his  work  and  of  himself.  When  he 
was  here  you  heeded  him  not.  Now  he  is  gone 
beyond  reach  or  cavil,  we  appeal  to  you.  When  you 
enter  this  room  do  you  not  feel  that  you  are  in  noble 
company?  Do  you  not  realize  that  no  common 
mind  gave  us  birth?  Do  you  not  draw  a fresher 
and  deeper  breath  as  you  find  yourself  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Best?  Is  there,  on  a single  canvas,  one 
iota  of  any  feeling  or  sentiment  that  is  in  the  least 
degree  ignoble  or  commonplace?  This  man  lived 
upon  the  heights.  He  felt  the  beauty  of  the  world 
and  the  deep  meaning  of  human  life.  Look  while  you 
may.  We  go  back  to  private  homes  and  galleries 
to  be  seen  no  more  together  for  many  years, — 
perhaps  never.” 

The  pictures  held  their  visitors  by  a strange  spell. 
In  that  two  weeks,  if  ever,  William  Hunt  was  ap- 
preciated in  his  own  city.  Death  gives  an  artist’s 
fame  a certain  advantage.  The  scales  of  prejudice  fall 
from  the  eyes  of  those  who  have  only  half  known  him. 


2i2  ART-LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  MORRIS  HUNT 


His  work  is  no  longer  in  competition  with  that  of  his 
fellows.  It  stands  apart  and  remote,  and  rests  solely 
upon  its  own  merits.  All  the  nobility  of  Hunt’s  genius 
was  fully  acknowledged ; and,  strange  to  say,  there 
was  found  to  be  a singular  modernity  about  his  work. 
It  had  been  whispered  about  among  non-sympathizers 
that  “ Hunt’s  painting  was  old-fashioned.”  Behold  ! 
if  Hunt  could  be  pronounced  “ old-fashioned,”  the 
same  term  might  with  justice  be  applied  to  the  works 
of  the  best  of  the  old  masters.  He  had  followed  no 
whim  of  fashion,  had  been  true  to  his  own  ideals; 
and,  let  us  not  forget  it,  was  far  in  advance  of  his 
own  time.  He  had  never  consciously  imitated  any 
artist  or  school.  Always  a student,  he  had  been 
affected  by  others  with  whom  he  worked,  or  whom 
he  had  admired. 

He  grew  away  from  Couture  and  from  Millet ; he 
loved,  but  never  imitated,  the  old  masters.  His  gift 
was  that  of  expression;  and  it  had  to  come  direct 
from  his  own  mind.  From  the  first  he  had  con- 
tended for  the  qualities  which  obtain  in  the  best 
modern  work:  great  simplicity,  breadth  of  execution, 
truth  of  values,  and  force  of  idea.  He  appreciated 
Manet,  long  before  he  was  heard  of  in  this  country ; 
he  liked  Whistler  for  his  outspoken  qualities  of 
brush  and  pen.  He  took  much  interest  in  the  work 
of  Frank  Duveneck,  although  not  in  sympathy  with 
the  Munich  school  where  he  had  studied.  He  invited 
him  to  come  to  Boston,  and  to  work  with  him  in 


NOBLE  TRIBUTES  TO  HUNT 


213 


his  studio,  and  it  was  only  by  a succession  of  little 
mishaps  that  the  two  giants  never  met.  One  after- 
noon Hunt  had  gone  to  Doll  & Richards,  to  ask 
for  the  young  painter’s  address.  Meanwhile,  Duve- 
neck  was  calling  upon  Hunt,  and  thus  missed  him. 
With  a strong  desire  to  meet  each  other  they  re- 
mained personally  strangers  during  the  short  period 
when  they  chanced  to  be  in  Boston  together. 

Said  Rev.  Dr.  Bartol  of  Hunt:  — 

“ He  was  one  of  the  men  of  genius  of  our  country  and 
time,  whom  it  takes  so  few  of  our  fingers  to  count,  and 
whose  orb  we  should  not  let  vanish  and  make  no  sign. 
It  deserves  and  will  have  permanent  memorial.” 

Another  writer  says : — 

“ The  enthusiasm  that  Boston  has  always  manifested 
over  the  works  of  Hunt  redounds  to  its  honor,  and  has  not 
been  misplaced.  There  is  that  in  his  representative  pic- 
tures and  drawings  which  survives  fashions  in  art,  as  surely 
as  the  same  qualities  perpetuate  the  glory  of  these  masters 
he  most  admired,  — Rembrandt,  Velasquez,  the  Venetians, 
and  Jean  Francois  Millet/ ’ 


■ 


INDEX 


Abbot,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.,  portraits  of, 

48. 

Academy  of  Design,  New  York,  2^ 
45,  100. 

Adams,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  F.,  portraits 
of,  49,  129. 

Adams,  John  Quincy,  ideas  of  sculp- 
ture, 135. 

Albany,  N.  Y.,  paintings  in  State 
Capitol,  136,  156,  157,  159-180. 

Allston  Club,  32. 

Allston,  Washington,  149. 

Ames  family,  portraits,  113. 

Ames,  Joseph,  artist,  33. 

Ames,  Oliver,  portrait  of,  49. 

Anahit  a,  The,  78-81;  159,  169,  178, 
207. 

Andrew,  Gov.,  39;  portrait  of,  49. 

Anecdotes,  58,  95-96  ; 98-104. 

Angelo,  Michael,  97,  142. 

Art-education,  ideas  of,  63 ; a pub- 
lished letter,  68 ; 124,  138 ; State 
art-schools,  138,  155. 

Art  lectures,  63. 

Art  writers,  idiocy  of,  70,  94. 

Babcock,  W.  P.,  artist,  10,  18,  32. 

Bacon,  Mrs.  Wm.,  portrait  of,  48. 

Bandmann,  actor,  37. 

Bangs,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  portraits  of,  48. 

Bartlett,  Sydney,  portrait  of,  49. 

Bartlett,  T.  H.,  sketch  for  monument, 
201. 

Bartol,  Rev.  Dr.,  on  Hunt,  213. 

Barye,  Antoine  Louis,  sculptor,  6,  32, 

33>  70,  965  13°)  t46. 

Bathers , The , 120,  121. 

Beebe,  J.  M.,  portrait  of,  49. 

Belated  Kid , The,  26. 


Bicknell,  A.  H.,  artist,  32,  40,  126. 
Bicknell,  W.  H.  W.,  etcher,  54. 
Billings,  E.  T.,  portrait  painter,  115. 
Billings,  Hammatt,  architect  and  de- 
signer, 35. 

Birth,  place  of,  and  date,  1. 

Blagden,  portrait  of  Hunt,  193. 

Blake,  William,  94. 

Blanchard,  Mr.,  portrait  of,  48. 
Bonaparte,  Napoleon,  Hunt’s  idea  of, 
1 32* 

Boughton,  G.  H.,  artist,  letter  from,  92. 
Brattleboro’,  Vt.,  birthplace  of  Hunt,  1. 
Brooks,  Frank,  27,  49. 

Brooks,  Phillips,  on  Hunt,  179. 
Brimmer,  Martin,  buys  Millet’s  Sheep- 
Shearers , 14;  replica  of  the  Mar- 
guerite, 28 ; Beggar  Girl , 28. 

Bugle  Call , 28,  38. 

Burne-Jones,  artist,  93. 

Burns,  Robert,  149. 

Cabot,  E.  C.,  126,  182. 

Calcium  light,  at  Albany,  162,  163. 
Calvert,  G.  H.,  portrait  of,  49. 
Camaraderie , between  Hunt  and  his 
pupils,  128. 

Charcoal  drawing,  105 ; first  studies 
for  figures,  etc.,  143. 

Chavannes,  Puvis  de,  145. 

Child  with  a Rabbit , 28. 

Claflin,  Mrs.,  and  daughter,  portraits, 
49, 76. 

Clarke,  Rev.  J.  F.,  D.D.,  portrait,  49. 
Class  in  Boston,  83-87. 

Cole,  J,  F.,  32,  68,  180. 

College,  Harvard,  3 ; rusticated,  4 ; re- 
turn given  up,  5. 

Colossal  figures,  160. 


2l6 


INDEX 


Columbus,  subject  for  painting,  159, 

l60. 

Commission  for  mural  painting,  157. 

Comparison  of  Hunt  with  artists  of 
to-day,  210. 

Composer,  qualities  of  a great,  156. 

Composition  of  a single  figure,  156. 

Coolidge,  Mrs.  R.,  portrait,  48. 

Courbet,  artist,  96. 

Couture,  The  Falconer , 7 ; Hunt  en- 
ters his  studio,  7 ; sympathy  between 
master  and  pupil,  8 ; method  of 
painting,  8 ; Decadence  Romaine , 
9;  compared  with  Millet,  12;  Boy 
\ with  Soap-Bubbles , 17;  44,  61,65, 
66,96,  152,  153,  159,  192. 

Curtis,  Greeley  S.,  106. 

Dabney,  C.  W.,  28. 

Dabney,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  portraits  of,  48. 

Dalton,  Dr.,  portrait  of,  49. 

Dalton,  John  C.,  197. 

Daumier,  artist,  146. 

Death  of  Hunt  (1879),  88. 

Death  of  Hunt,  circumstances  of,  189. 

Detail,  minute,  136. 

Delacroix,  artist,  outlines  vs . masses, 
144  ; on  Daumier,  147. 

Diaz,  artist,  32,  61,  75,  96,  148. 

Dickinson,  Lowes,  portrait  painter, 
87,  88,  171. 

Discoverer , The , 160,  162,  163. 

Doll  and  Richards,  38,  39. 

Dorsheimer,  Lieut.-Gov.,  commission 
from,  157,  164,  171. 

Drawings,  charcoal,  105;  as  first  stud- 
ies for  figures  and  portraits,  143; 
modelling  in,  144,  159,  175. 

Drummer  Boy , 49. 

Dupre,  artist,  153. 

Diirer,  artist  and  engraver,  85,  97,  104. 

Diisseldorf,  its  art-training,  6,  7. 

Duveneck,  Frank,  artist,  212,  213. 

Easton,  North,  113,  114. 

Eidlitz,  Leopold,  157,  158,  171. 

Elaine , 28,  72. 


Elements  in  art,  128-130, 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  51,  94. 

Emerson,  W.  R.,  116. 

Essex  Bar,  34. 

Execution  in  painting,  148. 

Exhibitions,  one  proposed  in  Chicago, 
64;  120,121,181;  memorial (1879), 
1 91-200;  last  exhibition  at  studio 
(1880),  204;  at  Grafton  Gallery, 
London  (1881),  205;  at  St.  Botolph 
Club  gallery,  209. 

Experiments  in  painting  on  stone,  162. 

Exposition,  Paris  (1852),  27;  (1867), 
42. 

Europe,  first  visit,  5 ; final  return 
from,  31. 

Evarts,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  M.,  por- 
traits of,  49. 

Fabronius,  lithographer,  37,  38. 

Fairchild,  Mrs.  Charles,  owner  of  The 
Bathers , 121. 

Fayal,  at,  134. 

Fenno,  Isaac,  family  portraits,  49. 

Field,  Kate,  description  of  Hunt,  42. 

Fields,  J.  T.,  87,  90. 

Fire,  loss  of  studio  and  paintings,  75. 

Flight  of  Night,  159,162,  163-169. 

Florida,  visit  to,  105-106. 

Forbes,  John  M.,  31,  105,  123,  203. 

Forbes,  Mrs.  J.  M.,  portrait  of,  49. 

Forbes,  Miss  M.,  portrait  of,  48. 

Forbes,  Miss  Mary,  portrait  of,  48. 

Forbes,  Miss  Sarah,  portrait  of,  48. 

Foster,  Judge  Dwight,  family  por- 
traits, 49. 

Fromentin,  artist  and  writer,  94. 

Gardner,  Master  F.,  portrait  of,  49, 
53- 

Gardner,  Mr.,  portrait  of,  129,  181. 

Gaugengigl,  I.  M.,  artist,  in  1894  ar- 
ranges exhibition  of  Hunt’s  works, 
209. 

Gericault,  artist,  Hunt’s  resemblance 
to,  61 ; 66. 

Girl  at  the  Fountain , 26,  37;  Girl 


INDEX 


217 


•with  a Kid , 18;  Girl  with  a Cat , 
28  ; Girl  with  a White  Cap , 28. 

Gloucester  Harbor,  119,  204. 

Grafton  Gallery,  London,  exhibition 
at,  205. 

Grant,  General,  portrait  of,  49. 

Grave  of  Hunt,  at  Brattleboro’,  Vt., 
189;  inscription  on  slab,  190. 

Gray,  Judge,  31 ; portrait  of  his  father, 
49. 

Gregerson,  J.  R.,  27,  41. 

Hamlet,  picture  of,  36,  57. 

Harbor,  Gloucester,  119,  204. 

Harvard  College  asks  for  art  teacher,  63. 

Hazlitt,  William,  his  “ Criticisms  on 
Art,”  94. 

Health,  ill,  182. 

Heard,  portraits  of,  49. 

Helpfulness  to  artists,  57,  68. 

History,  art,  Hunt  a vital  element  in, 
147. 

Historical  pictures  for  the  N.  Y.  Cap- 
itol, 175. 

Hoar,  Judge,  portrait  of,  49. 

Holbein,  85. 

Holmes,  O.  W.,  52. 

Home  in  Boston,  32. 

Humanity,  love  of,  149. 

Hunt,  Miss  Jane,  on  the  Albany  work, 
164. 

Hunt,  Leavitt,  translation  of  “Ana- 
hita,”  78. 

Hunt,  Richard  M.,  27,  37,  47,  50,  124, 
157- 

Hunt,  Mrs.  Richard  M.,  portrait,  49. 

Hurdy-Gurdy  Boy , 26,  37. 

Iasigi,  Mrs.,  portrait  of,  49. 

Impressions,  Hunt’s,  became  prin- 
ciples, 129,  137. 

Irish  janitor  paints  a portrait,  133. 

Isabey  admires, Hunt’s  Jewess,  8. 

Italian  Boy,  28. 

Japanese  art,  126. 

Jarves,  J.  J.,  42. 


Jarvis,  Major,  49. 

Jewess,  The,  8. 

Johnston,  John  B.,  artist,  81. 

Johnston,  John  Taylor,  198. 

Johnston,  T.  M.  J.,  artist,  83. 

Jones,  Augustine,  54. 

Kettle  Cove,  Magnolia,  116. 

Kindness  to  an  artist,  135. 

La  Farge,  artist,  63,  126. 

Landscape  painting,  105,  130,  137. 

Latin-school  boys  order  portrait,  54* 

Lectures  on  art,  139,  14 1. 

Legislature,  N.  Y.,  votes  an  appropri- 
ation, 1 71. 

Leighton,  Sir  Frederick,  93. 

Lessing,  artist,  6. 

Letters,  to  Harvard  College,  63 ; from 
Florida,  105-106;  Mexico,  107; 
summer  day  in  Boston,  no;  to  a 
professor  in  Yale  College,  138  ; from 
Mr.  Eidlitz,  158  ; from  Miss  Jane 
Hunt,  165 ; from  Hunt  to  Dr. 
Angell,  165,  166;  to  a pupil,  167; 
from  Mr.  Dickinson,  1 71 ; to  Carter 
(1879),  183  ; to  Mrs.  Carter,  183. 

Leutze,  portrait  of  Hunt,  193. 

Light,  Coming  of , 157. 

Light  in  Painting,  67,  119,  208. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  portrait  of,  39-42, 
44,  49. 

Lincoln,  Alice  N.,  buys  the  Margue- 
rite, 28. 

Lindsay,  Sir  Coutts,  instruction  from 
artists,  92. 

Listeners,  The,  152. 

Lithography,  37. 

Livermore,  Mrs.,  portrait  of,  49. 

Long,  George,  family  portraits,  49, 

Lowell,  Judge,  31,  49. 

Magnolia,  Mass.,  116,  134. 

Manchester,  Mass.,  116. 

Manet,  artist,  212. 

Mantegna,  85. 

Marguerite,  27;  replica  of,  28.  The 
New,  50. 


2l8 


INDEX 


Marriage,  30. 

Masters,  old,  130,  212;  modern,  66,  69. 

Maxims,  original,  208. 

Memorial  proposed,  201,  202,  204,  205. 

Memory  drawing,  86;  Hunt’s  power 
in,  137- 

Method  of  work,  74. 

Mexico,  9. 

Millais,  Sir  J.  E.,  letter  from,  91,  93. 

Millet,  Jean  Frangois,  10-25. 

Modernity  of  Hunt’s  work,  212. 

Monet,  artist,  137. 

Monguiat,  portrait  of  Hunt  (1850), 
193- 

Morrell,  Mr.,  portrait  of,  49. 

Mural  painting,  157,  175. 

Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston,  memo- 
rial exhibition,  1 91-200;  206. 

Napoleon,  Louis,  selects  the  Mar- 
guerite, 2 7. 

Nature,  genial  and  playful,  134. 

Naushon,  island,  113. 

Niagara  Falls,  visit  to,  122;  proposed 
subjects  for  panels  in  Albany  Cap- 
itol, 158,  169,  192;  paintings  of, 
204. 

Newman,  artist,  60. 

Newbury,  West,  m-113. 

Noa,  Mrs.,  pastellist,  154. 

Old  Corner  Bookstore,  35. 

Orientalist  in  thought,  150. 

Originality  in  art,  140. 

Ostade,  131. 

Outline,  devotion  to,  144. 

Paine,  Mr.,  portrait  of,  48. 

Painting,  Hunt’s  mother  fond  of  it,  2; 
lessons  in  the  Hunt  home,  2,  3 ; ad- 
miration for  Couture,  7 ; enters  his 
class,  7;  Couture’s  method,  7;  love 
for  Millet’s  work,  20;  its  influence 
on  Hunt,  25  ; his  own  work,  in  Paris 
and  in  Boston,  26-30,  149;  mural 
work,  157. 

Parker,  Rev.  Dr.,  4. 


Personal  characteristics,  71. 

Personal  resemblance  to  great  artists, 
7 1- 

Phenomenon  in  the  development  of 
art,  129. 

Phillips  and  Sampson,  37. 

Photographs  of  Hunt’s  works,  120. 

Pigments  invented  for  the  Albany 
work,  162. 

Portrait,  his  mother’s,  26;  his  wife’s, 
i93>  J94i  his  own,  194. 

Portraits  of  Hunt,  193. 

Portraiture,  30,  46,  51,  127,  137. 

Post,  N.  Y.  Eve.,  45. 

Powell,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.,  portraits  of, 

48. 

Poynter,  artist,  93. 

Precision  in  art,  156. 

Preface  to  catalogue  for  memorial  ex- 
hibition, 197. 

Preface  to  catalogue  for  St.  Botolph 
exhibition,  210. 

Prodigal  Son,  The , 29,  60. 

Punctuality,  161. 

Pupils,  why  women  instead  of  men,  127. 

Raphael,  97. 

Regamey,  Felix,  portrait  of,  47. 

Religion  in  art,  139. 

Rembrandt,  9,  131,  132. 

Richardson,  H.  H.,  157,  164. 

Robbins,  Mr.,  28. 

Robinson,  Thomas,  artist,  32,  68,  97, 
98, 114, 132, 149. 

Roman  Girl,  26,  28. 

Rousseau,  artist,  153. 

Rubens,  144. 

Russell,  Miss,  portrait  of,  49. 

Sale,  by  auction,  204. 

Salem,  Mass.,  Shaw  portrait  in  Court 
House,  34. 

Saltonstall,  Mrs.  L.,  portrait  of,  49. 

Sanford,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  M.  M.,  por- 
traits of,  49. 

Schoff,  S.  A.,  engraver  of  The  Bathers , 

121. 


INDEX 


219 


Schroedter,  artist,  6. 

Schurz,  Carl,  Sumner  portrait  to  have 
been  given  to  him,  131. 

Sculpture,  lessons  begun  in  Boston, 
continued  (1844),  with  Barye,  6; 
advised  to  go  to  Dusseldorf,  6 ; early 
love  for,  143. 

Shakespeare,  like,  a gleaner,  147. 

Shaw,  Chief  Justice,  portrait  of,  33-36. 

Shaw,  Q.  A.,  28,  98,  203. 

Shoals,  visit  to  the  (1879),  184-188; 
death  at  Appledore,  188. 

Singers, The,  152. 

Skinner,  Francis,  28. 

Smith,  Walter,  State  art-director,  155. 

Sohn,  artist,  6. 

Somerby,  Mr.,  portrait  of,  49. 

Sower,  The , by  Millet,  purchased  by 
Hunt,  10. 

Spring  Chickens,  114,  152. 

State  legislature,  Lincoln  portrait,  42; 
system  of  art-education,  138,  155. 

Storm  at  Manchester,  196. 

Studios,  Hunt’s,  36;  loss  by  fire,  75; 
81,  117,  120,  121;  visit  to  pupil’s 
studio,  127;  134,  160;  final  closing, 
182. 

Sturgis,  Mrs.  R.,  portrait  of,  48. 

Sumner,  Charles,  131,  132. 

Sympathy,  little  from  other  artists,  148. 

Taine,  writer,  94. 

“Talks  on  Art,”  Hunt’s,  87;  value 
to  artists,  89;  English  edition,  90. 

Teachers  vs.  artists,  148. 

Temperament  of  genius,  146. 

Teniers,  131. 

Tennyson,  illustrations  of,  72. 

Thackeray,  Miss,  describes  artist  like 
Hunt,  209. 

Thaxter,  Celia,  on  Hunt  (1879),  184, 
185. 

Thaxter,  Levi,  8S-89,  94,  100,  119. 


Thayer,  W.  T.,  portrait  of,  46. 

Tribute  to  Hunt,  from  Mrs.  Whit- 
man, 199;  to  the  memorial  exhi- 
bition, 195;  from  Susan  Coolidge, 
199;  from  Mrs.  Whitman,  198. 

Tweedy  portraits,  of  children,  48. 

Van,  for  painting,  109,  118. 

Value,  financial,  of  art-education,  138. 

“ Values,”  study  of,  145. 

Vedder,  Elihu,  artist,  32,  68. 

Velasquez,  97, 132. 

Veto,  by  Gov.  Robinson,  171,  175. 

Vinci,  Da,  149. 

Violet  Girl,  26,  37. 

Violin,  Balzac’s,  74. 

Visit,  last,  to  Albany,  179;  to  a sick 
child,  104. 

Vital  element  in  history  of  art,  147. 

Walker,  President,  portrait  of,  48. 

Ward,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  G.,  portraits 
of,  49. 

Wardner,  Allen,  portrait  of,  48. 

Watts,  artist,  93. 

Williams,  Archbishop,  portrait  of,  49; 
Mrs.  A.  D.,  and  daughter,  portraits 
of,  50 ; Williams  and  Everett,  34. 

Wheelwright,  Andrew,  portrait  of, 
49;  Edward,  portrait  of,  48. 

Whistler,  artist,  212. 

Whitman,  Mrs.,  tribute  to  Hunt,  199; 
to  memorial  exhibition,  198. 

Whittier,  J.  G.,  54. 

Willow  Cottage,  Magnolia,  Mass., 
i34. 

Winthrop,  R.  C.,  Jr.,  portraits,  48. 

Wolcott,  H.,  and  H.,  Jr.,  portraits 
of,  49. 

Woman  Knitting,  28. 

Workmen  at  Albany,  1 72-1 74. 

Yale  College,  Art-School,  30. 


■ 


%tit  at  JHidtael  ^itg tla 

By  HERMAN  GRIMM 

Translated  by  Fanny  Elizabeth  Bunnett.  New  edition  with 
additions,  and  forty  photogravure  plates  from  works  of  art.  2 vols. 
8vo.  Maroon  cloth,  gilt  top,  with  choice  cover  design,  in  a cloth 
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remaining  seventeen  plates  embrace  works  by  Raphael,  Titian,  Da 
Vinci,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  Botticelli,  Perugino,  Donatello,  Melozzo  da 
Forli,  Giotto,  Fra  Angelico,  Sebastian  del  Piombo,  Daniele  da 
Volterra,  and  Correggio. 

When  we  come  to  Michael  Angelo,  his  sonnets  and  letters  must  be  read  with 
his  Life  by  Vasari,  or  in  our  day  by  Herman  Grimm.  — Emerson. 

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see  this  new  and  handsome  edition  appearing  on  the  book-table. — John  C. 
Van  Dyke 

%tr  anflf  #ttt  gf 

Cftrre  Hormanftg  Inns' 

By  ANNA  BOWMAN  DODD, 

Author  of  “CATHEDRAL  DAYS,”  etc. 

New  Holiday  Edition,  with  numerous  full-page  plate  and  other 
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author  of  4 4 Cathedral  Days.”  One  might  tire  a little  of  painter’s  slang,  some- 
times of  their  ways,  but  not  so  when  the  Unknown,  and  Charm,  her  friend,  and 
John  Renard  and  M.  Paul,  and  Madame  the  Countess  talk  and  tell,  as  in  this 
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The  inns  so  capitally  treated  are  at  Villerville,  Dives,  and  Mont  St.  Michel,  and 
it  is  hard  to  say  which  of  them  is  the  most  fascinating.  — New  York  Tribune. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  & CO.,  Publishers , BOSTON. 


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